


That Which Ties Us

by orphan_account



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrinette, F/M, Here we go, I've written with more tears in mind so just buckle up lessgo, Identity Reveal, LadyNoir - Freeform, Lovesquare, Marichat, Reveal Fic, a taste of each side, adrien is weak, alya is just confused, because angst, fluff and sin, funtimes, idk it's not that bad, kind of angst?, ladrien, mari is a mess, nino is bae, ohboy, ptsd plagg, the marichat sin is real though, these two are a mess, tikki and plagg are little shits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-06 20:36:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 37,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8768365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “Alya, what do I do?” Adrien cried, voice and expression betraying the maelstrom of emotions contained within him. It was a miracle he hadn't exploded yet.“That depends,” Alya hummed coolly. “What do you want to do?”“What?”“Do you want to go after her?”“Yes. Should I?”“Maybe. Do you like her?”“Yes.”“Do you love her?”...Finally, definitively, he said: “Yes.”It has been a long time since Chat Noir and Marinette fell inexplicably in love--just not with each other. But when Tikki and Plagg decide that the separation has gone on long enough, for reasons beyond the fact their Chosen are oblivious, it starts off a chain reaction that only gets worse. With new powers and new hearts to hold and break, Adrien and Ladybug are walking thin lines of friendship and romance with their hero and civilian counterparts.





	1. Act I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ladynoir brought to you by Wipe Your Eyes by Maroon 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Each of these chapters will have a pairing, and each will have a theme song which started this whole mess.

Scheming had never been Tikki's strong point. It was part of Ladybug's guise: to be honest and true in order to find favor with those she protected (though this wasn't always the case in the past, no matter how virtuous the Chosen may have been, and sometimes the people turned on her no matter what). Regardless, transparency had been a trait Tikki held close to her heart, even if Marinette didn't realize it. She tried to always provide information, though she still remained bound by past secrecy and the emotional strength of her charge.

But Plagg finally convinced her, damn the kitten.

After a particularly tough battle against an akuma and a few close calls, Tikki had heard a faint tapping against the trap door to Marinette's balcony. At the dead of night, it was highly suspicious, so the kwami went to investigate. Instead of a burglar, she had found a stray.

Plagg had given Tikki a toothy grin at the sight of her, no doubt proud of himself for finally honing in on their telepathic connection enough to find her location. Tikki had rolled her eyes at him, and he sobered considerably—seriousness was a rare treat from the black kwami.

“They need to meet,” Plagg had whispered into the soft night air as the two of them sat upon the cushion of Marinette's balcony chair. “It's been four years.”

“She's not ready,” Tikki protested quickly, though she knew the value of Paris' heroes revealing themselves to each other. It wasn't necessary, but it made things easier. They had gotten by so far. Even as she spoke, her gaze drifted away from his. He knew her far too well—he could read her better than anyone—and Plagg would know her uncertainty even if she was miles away from him.

Her prodded at her with a soft paw, gentle and comforting. Another rare treat, comfort. He did care, she realized, silently, though she wasn't sure when she had forgotten that she _knew_ that Plagg cared. They'd been apart for too long, it seemed. Perhaps he felt it too.

“Then let us push them, a little, at least?”

“How?” Tikki said softly, warily. “How do we do anything without hurting them?”

Plagg was silent. Tikki knew he didn't have an answer. There was nothing the kwami could do to make their Chosen ready to meet. Or, more specifically, there was nothing Tikki could do to make Marinette ready. That was something Paris' hero had to figure out on her own.

The moon bathed them in a gentle glow, and Plagg stared to the sky. He had lost focus on his thoughts, and was reminiscing. At least, that was the extent to which Tikki could determine from the thoughts that leaked over from their connection. He was absently searching for an answer, she assumed, based on past experience, and coming up with blanks.

Tikki gave a gentle sigh, and butted her head against his, successfully pulling the black kwami from his memories. “We should explain to them the weapons. Your Chosen needs to know how to purify akuma. There have been far too many close calls so far to keep ignoring it.”

Plagg gave a soft shudder, and leaned closer to her, either for warmth against the chill of the night or for comfort. Tikki continued, her voice vibrating against the proximity of him, “I know it's always scary to let them know, but we have to trust them. They're good kids. At least mine is, and I can tell you look highly upon yours.”

“He's a good kitten, but... There's always a possibility something drives them to do drastic things, and neither of us want that.”

“It will be far worse if Nooro's power continues to be abused.”

Plagg remained silent, at that remark, but she could feel his grudging agreement over their tether. He too, felt the distant pull of the pain of Hawkmoth's kwami, a much weaker connection between all kwami's that paled in comparison to that of the ladybug and black cat miraculous, but still palpably _there_. They both shared the itch in their bones to help, do something, anything.

It wasn't an inherent need necessarily, but a constant nagging, like trying to think of a word that was on the 'tip of one's tongue,' impossible to ignore. It wasn't vital, but it persisted, ever-present and insatiable. And they both knew that sensation all too well.

Plagg let the air still between them, conveying thought to Tikki in short bursts and flashes, letting her catch glimpses of his memory and emotions through mental contact. They had always had this connection, this shared mindscape, but with increased distance of space or time, it weakened and became less stable. Plagg was stretching his telepathic muscles, which had faded with the little contact between them over the past few years. This, in fact, was the first time they had intentionally met since awakening.

Letting out a breathy yawn, Tikki leaned further towards Plagg, and he let out a quiet, unintentional purr. They weren't lovers, for that was a very human word, though perhaps they could have been. There was a spark of emotion between herself and the fuzzy black tomcat beside her that she would likely never be able to explain with words, for it bordered beyond physical existent and tied their souls together. If they had souls, that was. Souls were also a human concept.

Chinese philosophy was probably one of the closest human descriptions of what Tikki and Plagg were to each other when it posed the idea of Yin and Yang. But even that was not enough to fully explain how she felt for him, and he for her. If that was what love was, then so be it: they were in love.

Plagg, as if sensing her train of thought (he probably had, as Tikki's absent thinking usually leaked over their connected, especially when they were so close), broke the silence with simple words, “I miss you.”

Tikki let out a slow hum. “I miss you too, Plagg,” she said. “We should meet more often.”

“We should tell them to reveal themselves.”

“You already know why I'm against it.”

A sigh, and then Plagg curled towards the curve of her body, and she shifted too, so that Tikki lay back and Plagg rested his head upon her abdomen. “I will tell him,” Plagg said. “If you try to push your Chosen to reveal herself.”

The disapproval leaked over their mental tether before Tikki could stop it, and Plagg let out a soft whine. “Please, Tikki. You don't know... You don't know how hard it is to be Chat Noir without you.”

The red kwami winced visibly. She knew the pain of exchanging powers with Plagg, the excruciation of desire and insanity and weakness and power all at once. But that had been a _choice_. They had decided to do it, out of necessity and experimentation. But to be a Chat Noir without a Ladybug... That was a whole new plane of suffering for which Tikki had no knowledge. Only Plagg had been awakened alone before, because while indispensable, the black cat miraculous would always be viewed as the less valuable.

The emotional wreckage of knowing that alone would be devastating to a kwami in transition.

“I know what you're thinking,” Plagg said. “Just _please_ , Tikki, you don't know how much it hurts. It's... difficult to bring up without bringing up the fear of it happening again. Telling them makes it seem far too real than I would like to admit.”

She gave him a scratch behind his ear, an attempt at comfort. He was still traumatized, she realized, and then was stricken by her own insensitivity. Of course he was still traumatized! That pain—that terrifying, all-consuming hunger to be complete with nothing to sate it—she knew only the tip of the iceberg. Suddenly, Tikki was impressed Plagg still had sense in him, that he hadn't gone mad from the experience.

In her panic, she flooded their connection with worry and distress and apology. “I'm fine,” Plagg whispered to her, but his voice wavered, and the words _I think_ , floated across from his mind. “But being close to you does help.”

“I owe you as much,” Tikki said, and petted the fur upon his head. “I will try to convince her. I'm sorry we didn't reveal them to each other from the beginning.”

She felt Plagg shrug against her. “There's nothing for you to apologize for. I was mad, and after all, what is it the humans say? 'Absinthe makes the heart grow stronger?'”

She was surprised into a laugh at that, and her sudden bark made Plagg look up with a toothy grin. “It's _absence_ , Plagg, _ab-sence_. Though you might be on to something.” She had to admit, the last time they had been in Paris together, at the _Moulin Rouge_ , they had quite enjoyed themselves. Well, until—

“Don't,” Plagg said quickly, interrupting her thoughts. “There was nothing we could have done for her. We might be miraculous, but we can't always perform miracles.”

Tikki nodded, but her heart clenched painfully all the same. The silence descended again, stirred only by Plagg's soft purr as Tikki scratched at his fur. But eventually their suspended bubble of time together had to pop. It was Plagg's hearty yawn that first broke their contentedness. “Daybreak is soon,” Tikki observed.

“I should go. I promise I'll try to... bring up things to A—my Chosen.”

Tikki nodded, and pressed herself to Plagg one last time before floating into the air, stretching. “I promise to do the same with mine, and should the opportunity present itself, I will try to push her to be more comfortable with revealing each other.”

“Thank you,” Plagg said, and joined her in the air. He pressed a paw to her cheek, and she leaned into his warmth, but soon the cool air touched her as Plagg flitted away. Tikki watched him leave, savoring the proximity of him until he was out of sight, before returning to her bed in Marinette's room.

 

“I'll show you true beauty!”

The cry came from an akumatized man that Chat Noir vaguely recognized. He'd seen the photographer a few times before during shoots, a low-ranking assistant within the Gabriel Agreste company. The fashion industry was brutal in Paris, certainly, and it was only a matter of time before designers and models alike fell prey to Hawkmoth's emotional manipulation.

Chat just wished he didn't feel as responsible as he did, but there really was nothing he could do to stop the senior photo shoot director from criticizing the young man's work. He was a model, an object, but maybe if he had done a better job...

“Chat, watch out!”

The cry came from nearby, and his ears picked up the rapid click of a shutter, and then Ladybug barreled into him, knocking him over. They both flew across the rooftop, landing in a tangled heap, but safe from the rays of light emanating from the akuma's camera. When the “Obscura” first announced himself, Chat had seen first hand the damage done, as the shoot director was zapped into nonexistence by the flash of light.

“Why, M'Lady,” Chat purred as he rose, extending a hand to help Ladybug up, “If we stay on our toes, I'm sure we'll take this one out in a _flash_.” She looked up at him with a mild glare at the words, and her gaze alone sent delicious electricity down his spine. God, he was so in love with her.

She had been reaching for his hand, but at the sight of his cheeky grin after his punning, she pulled it back and got up on her own. “If you have time for puns, Chat, then you don't have any time to be distracted. Be more careful.”

“I _shutter_ at the idea of doing anything else, Bugaboo.”

Ladybug groaned. “We don't have time for puns and nicknames! Pay attention!”

While they were arguing, Obscura had floated down to the street, and was employing the large reflectors he had attached to his back to increase the reach of his lethal pictures. Ladybug was already readying her yo-yo to go after him, and Chat sobered. She sent him a solemn nod—their usual plan then: Chat would distract, and she would grab the akuma's item.

Chat sped off on all-fours, bounding across the rooftop they had skidded upon moments before. He let out a loud _whoop_ , successfully distracting the akuma from the family he had been about to capture with his camera.

Obscura must have gotten the memo, though, or perhaps they were becoming more predictable, or maybe Hawkmoth knew their strategies by now, but even as Chat flew through the air to attack, the akuma's focus was draw elsewhere: Ladybug. Instead of landing a flying kick at Obscura's chest, Chat bounced into the reflectors, which swiveled to protect the akuma's back as he turned to face the spotted heroine.

Chat landed on the ground in a fumbling crouch, and he saw Ladybug's eyes widen as Obscura raised his camera at her. Letting out a cry, Chat Noir lunged to the side, around the akuma, and threw his baton. His aim was true, and the momentum of his throw knocked Ladybug out of the way of the block of white light, though his baton was not as lucky.

Knowing Chat was now without a weapon, Obscura turned to him, grinning a savage smile. “You're a pretty boy,” he said, “Have you considered modeling?” The irony of that statement hit a little too close to home for Chat's liking. The akuma made a point of checking the camera lens and flash as Chat scrambled to back away.

Suddenly a flash of red flew underneath the akuma, and then a string was pulled taut against Chat's leg as Ladybug's yo-yo wrapped around his ankle. “You know, I'd love to stay and _chat,_ but _shoot—_ ” The black clad hero was cut off as he went skidding across the pavement, underneath the akuma and towards Ladybug.

When he reached her, she helped him untangle himself, and then pushed him into a run before he could complain about her not letting him finish his pun. It wasn't long before she was charging after him, steering him towards the nearest large building—the office building in which Chat had been doing the photoshoot that started this whole mess. The duo burst through the doors, with an angry Obscura not far behind them.

“ _Run!_ ” Ladybug hissed from near his shoulder, and they rounded the corner into an unlit hallway. Chat's night vision kicked in, and, coupled with previous knowledge of the building, he recognized the doorway of a janitorial closet to their right. Grabbing Ladybug's arm, he tugged her sideways, and she let out a surprised yelp.

Chat slammed the door open with his shoulder, and their running momentum caused them to crash into a shelving unit full of cleaning supplies. Ladybug let out a squeak of pain, and had Chat not been busy leaping up to hold the door closed and listen for the akuma, he would have gone to her immediately.

Seconds passed, then perhaps minutes. Chat heard near-psychotic laughter in the distance for a moment, and he tensed, remaining so even as the sound faded into silence. Once he was sure they were relatively safe for the moment, he flicked on the light, and knelt next to Ladybug, who was curled on her side against a pile of toppled brooms and cradling her arm.

“My Lady,” he breathed out, worry already gnawing his insides into a twisted and sick feeling. He brushed his fingertips along her shoulder, scanning her body for wounds and unable to locate any obvious injuries.

“My Lady, are you alright? Does it hurt? Can you walk? You know what, stay here, and I'll go bring the akuma back—”

“For the love of God, Chat,” Ladybug hissed through gritted teeth. “Shut up. I'm fine. Well, I will be. It's just a bruise. G-Give me a moment.”

“Anything, Ladybug,” Chat said, and watched her anxiously. Each time something like this happened, she scolded him for blaming himself, so Chat had long ago learned to keep his thoughts to himself: it was his fault. If he had only thrown himself in front of her first, when they went through the door, or if he had been more gentle when he grabbed her, or—

“Stop it,” Ladybug said suddenly, and he realized her gaze was on him, slightly dull as she still recovered from the pain, but undoubtedly determined all the same.

“Stop what?” Chat said, but he already knew the answer, and she knew it too. She knew him far too well, by now, knew his insecurities and doubts far better than anyone. And yet, did she even really know _him_? Was Adrien worth anything to her?

Ladybug sighed, and flexed out her hurt arm, testing it. She winced, but didn't stop the movement, accustoming herself to the pain. After a few moments, she rested her other hand against his shoulder. A symbol of comfort. Chat couldn't meet her eyes, so he instead focused on the label of a bottle of bleach on the floor in front of him.

There was a spark of red out of the corner of Chat's eye, and Ladybug let out a surprised, distressed, yelp.

“Ladybug?!” Chat Noir cried, hands flying to her as his gaze searched her expression. “What's wrong?”

“Chat, close your eyes!”

Taken aback, Chat blinked at her a couple of times, before he squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out all but the faint yellow glare of the light above. “Why? What's going on? Ladybug!”

“Keep them closed! My transformation faded! I don't kn—Tikki!” Ladybug was talking to him, and then suddenly broke off, sounding panicked. “Tikki, what's wrong?” A pause. “What's with that look?”

“...Can someone tell me what's happening?” Chat asked into the vague space before him.

A gentle, light voice graced his ears: “Come on, Plagg, it's time.”

“Tikki?” Ladybug said, sounded equal parts suspicious, confused, and unhappy.

“What?” Chat said, at the mention of his kwami's name, and then he felt the flood of magic begin to leave his toes. “Shit! Plagg, don't you dare—” Chat, eyes still slammed shut, lunged upwards, in the general direction of the door, and flailed against the wall for a bit before he located the light switch and violently flicked at it.

The last vestiges of his Chat Noir transformation sifted away, and then he heard Plagg, the little traitor that he is: “Oh, this is very interesting.” Even with his eyes closed, Adrien could practically see the kwami rubbing his paws together in sadistic delight. “I didn't realize who your Chosen was until now, Tikki,” Plagg continued, “This is very interesting indeed. Yes, I think this will be fun.”

“Don't be such an ass,” Tikki said bluntly, and Adrien heard Ladybug gasp from beside him.

“Tikki!” she scolded.

A light giggle, presumably from Tikki, and then silence ensued as she sobered. “I didn't mean to drop the transformation quite as suddenly as I did, but we need to talk to you two. Especially in a situation as applicable as this.”

“What are you talking about?” Ladybug asked. Adrien moved to sit against the opposite wall, and his leg accidentally brushed against Ladybug's foot. She shifted, some, but didn't pull away completely, and Adrien would call that a win in his book.

There was a moment of silence, which was ended by a whine from Plagg. “I-I can't, Tikki. I-I'm not ready. I—” he broke off into a cry, and Adrien had never heard his kwami sound so upset. In fact, it might have been the first time he'd heard his kwami be anything but hungry or angry because he was hungry.

“Plagg?” Adrien asked, concerned now at his distress. “Plagg, what's wrong?”

“Plagg... May need some time to adjust, so to speak,” came Tikki's voice. “There are things we need to explain. It is time, and you two are ready. You two have heard of yin and yang, yes? The symbol of white with a black dot, and black with a white dot, and together they make a circle. The Ladybug and Chat Noir miraculous are synonymous in a way, but instead as a balance of luck. M—Ladybug is comprised of good luck, but contains a dash of bad luck, and just as Chat Noir is comprised of bad luck, he contains some good.”

Plagg let out a soft choking sound that was half-way between a cough and a sob, and Tikki made a cooing sound at him before continuing. “These levels can fluctuate, depending on the choices of the miraculous holders. It helps to have each others' weapons. It makes it easier to channel the opposing version of luck, but you can use a version of the cure and cataclysm, respectively. Just there's—”

“There's a catch,” Plagg suddenly broke in, and took a shuddering breath in between his words. “It's called an itch. There must be a sort of cleansing after each use. We aren't meant to contain more of the opposite type of luck than that which maintains balance. As is, using each others' powers will compromise mine and Tikki's ability to transform. I'll be out of commission for a day or so, sometimes a bit longer, and Tikki usually for three.”

“Why's that?” Ladybug asked before Plagg continued.

Tikki picked up the question. “It is easier to take good luck out of bad luck, than to remove bad luck from good. Think of it as drawing with a light and dark color. You can paint over white paper much easier than you can paint over black.”

“Oh,” came the simple reply from the heroine. Silence continued, and by now, due to the brokenness of their conversation, Adrien had guessed that the two kwami could communicate without speaking, and were discussing something silently. He let his mind wandered to his Lady, sitting next to him, without the mask. The curiosity bit at him, drove his fingers to tap rapidly against his leg.

Ladybug must have been able to feel his agitation from where her foot pressed against the side of his leg, because she swatted half-heartedly at him, hand colliding with his shin. “Stop fidgeting!” she hissed. “You're making me nervous.”

Adrien grinned into the dark, even though she probably had her eyes closed too, judging by the clumsiness of her aim. “Sorry. I just _cat_ help myself. I've never been around you without the mask. I'm curious.”

Ladybug groaned, and his confidence plummeted. So it wasn't likely he was going to find out who she was anytime soon, even after this. “Don't remind me. I'm already freaking out. Anyway, haven't you ever heard that saying about curiosity killing the cat?”

“Curiosity _will_ kill the cat,” Plagg suddenly cut in, sounding bitter. “Fine, Tikki! I'll tell them.” A deep breath. “As miraculous holders, we must conform to your will. It is well within your right to abuse this power. It is even possible for you two to ultimately switch abilities by equal use of each others' power, so that balance is maintained while Ladybug gains the essence of bad luck, and Chat gains the essence of good luck.

“But please don't,” Plagg pleaded, and his voice sounded broken against the small confines of the closet. “It will drive you mad. It will drive us mad. It starts as an itch that you can't scratch, the need to return to your standard symbol of luck, and then grows into hunger, a need to feel complete again, and then borders on insanity. The full transition takes months, at least, with this madness driving you, and isn't alleviated until you complete the trade.”

Tikki spoke up. “Plagg and I have only attempted trading lucks a few times in our lives, and have succeeded even less often. They were necessary exchanges, but there was no good result. The trades always come at a cost.”

“If there's a trade to make,” Plagg muttered darkly.

“What do you mean?” Adrien asked. “'If'?”

Plagg went quiet, and Tikki spoke slowly, seemingly wary as her soft voice filled the air. “In the past, Plagg has had to fight alone... I wasn't there, and so Plagg had to face a transition for which there was no end.”

“What?” Adrien said, and then the words processed into meaning: a Chat Noir without Ladybug. The phrase bounced around in his head, and made him feel sick to his stomach. Plagg made a pained noise, and then Adrien felt a searing in his chest that made him gasp and double-over.

“Chat?” Ladybug reached blindly for him, and her fingers found his hair, then his shoulder, grasping at him. “Chat, what's wrong?”

“Plagg!” Tikki cried, and the pain subsided, leaving Adrien breathing hard.

“What the hell?” he accused into the dark, though not at anyone in particular. “What was that?”

“Sorry! Sorry!” Plagg cried, suddenly at Adrien's shoulder, and then trembling into the crook of his neck. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry.”

Tikki translated Plagg's sobs into coherent words: “You and he are connected. Sometimes he loses himself... The experience has traumatized him, and sometimes he unintentionally projects the damage onto you. It has happened to other Chat Noirs as well, since... Since.”

“So...” Ladybug began, tone indicative of a change in topic. “What do you want us to do?”

“We want Chat Noir to try purifying this akuma,” Tikki answered. “He doesn't necessarily have to defeat it, seeing as he is inexperienced with your yo-yo, but he should attempt to finish the job. His is the more likely of the exchange to be necessary, and you both must grow accustomed to channeling luck so you won't be caught unaware when the need arises. We can no longer work on an 'if' basis. There have been too many close calls. It would also be good if you began to train with each others' weapons during patrols, or separate times, so you will be proficient in emergencies.”

“Wait, so you want us to do this transitioning thing?” Adrien said, “After you just told us all of the reasons why it sucks?”

“The transition is only begun after prolonged and balanced use of each others' powers without channeling the luck back out. If you both meet within a few days and preform the channeling, you will bear little to no ill effects,” Tikki said calmly. “Plagg and I have discussed this already. We think you'll be fine. This is just a test run, after all.”

“So how do I do it?” Adrien asked slowly, still wary of the idea.

“Once you are transformed, Plagg will guide you,” Tikki responded.

Adrien doubted the trembling black mass on his shoulder was capable of guiding anything, but as if on cue, Plagg took a deep breath, steadied himself, and announced: “Okay, I can do this. Let's go.”

“You sure?” Adrien reached up to stroke Plagg's head, and felt the kwami nod against his finger. “Alright, Plagg. Claws out!”

The flow of magic, strength and flexibility, flowed through Adrien. Suddenly his fingers stretched to the right length, tipped by claws, and the awkward fit of the shirt he was modeling earlier was replaced by the comfort of his suit. Senses, sharpened, he had to remember to keep his eyes closed or else his night vision would reveal Ladybug's identity to him. The thought was tempting...

...Was Ladybug laughing?

“What?” Chat said defensively. “What are you laughing at?”

“'Claws out!'” Ladybug echoed between giggles. “It's so—so _you_. You're such a dork!”

“Hey, I didn't choose the phrase,” Chat grumbled. “I think it's rather cool, though. What's wrong with it?”

“You would,” Ladybug chuckled, then sobered. “Okay, let's get this done with. Tikki, Spots on!” Chat felt the brush of Ladybug's magic sweep past him as she transformed.

“'Spots on'?” he queried.

“Yeah,” Ladybug said. “Got a problem with it?”

“Not at all!” Chat said, holding up his hands defensively. “It's... cute?”

“We'll see how cute it is when I... Chat, you can open your eyes now, silly.”

“Oh, oh right. Good idea.” Chat Noir blinked stretching his strained muscles from holding his eyes closed so tightly. “Now what?”

“I guess, step one, we get that akuma. Any ideas?”

Blinking down at Ladybug, who stood before him, Chat noticed the bottle of bleach he'd seen earlier, and something clicked in his head. “Yeah, actually.”

 

Their plan succeeded.

Chat snagged a couple of bottles of bleach from the storage closet, and they set out to track down the akuma. They found Obscura terrorizing a nearby park, though by now it was empty. Chat hoped that was because the public had the mind to run and not because they had all been vaporized by Obscura's camera. While he had complete faith in Ladybug's cure, he had far less trust in his own ability. What if he screwed it up?

But there would be time to think about that afterward. Ladybug had already scolded him once today about being distracted.

“Ready?” Ladybug whispered to his shoulder. She was crouched next to him, hiding behind some bushes. Obscura was across the clearing, snapping pictures of the scenery. As soon as his back was turned...

“Now!” Ladybug hissed, and bolted out of the bush in a roll. She landed in a crouch, but poised to take off running. As soon as Chat leaped out from the other side, they both charged, Chat with a bottle of bleach in each hand.

Ladybug made a screeching noise, drawing the akuma's attention, while Chat circled around and jumped, dumping the corrosive liquid on Obscura's reflectors. As they began to melt away, the akuma turned and made an angry sound from the back of his throat. “How dare you! How will I ever find the perfect lighting now?!”

“Well, for a start, I think you should _lighten_ up a bit,” Chat said through a grin, and ducked away before Obscura could raise his camera. He heard Ladybug call for her lucky charm, and he danced around a tree to avoid the deadly flash of the camera. This worked until Obscura wiped the tree off of the face of the earth with a click of a shutter.

“Chat!” Ladybug called, though instead of panicked worry in her voice, it was determination. He glanced over with barely enough time to catch the full-length mirror she threw at him, just as Obscura raised the camera.

There was a flash, and then a cry of pain. Chat looked around the mirror to find the akuma holding his head in his hands—his own magic unable to affect him completely, but enough to temporarily blind him. He had dropped his camera, and Chat dove for it just as something red flew past him. Breaking the item with his claws, he watched as a tiny black butterfly emerged, then turned to Ladybug...

Ladybug?

Where was she?

Suddenly it clicked. Whipping his head around, he realized what the flash of red from earlier had been: her yo-yo. Ladybug must not have had time to dive out of the way of the flash of light from the mirror, but threw her yo-yo at him in order for him to use his cure.

Chat felt sick to his stomach. He couldn't do this without her.

She's gone, she's gone, his mind echoed, then: don't say that, don't say that, don't say that.

Despite his mantra, the panic settled into his bones, and his face-paced breathing and inability to focus on a single fleeting thought was telling him he was starting to go into shock. Oh, God, what did he do? Tikki said Plagg would help? Should he detransform? But then he wouldn't be able to use his powers.

Somewhere in the jumbled mess of his mind, instinct, or perhaps Plagg, told his limbs to move, to go to the yo-yo.

Ladybug's yo-yo.

Oh, God, what if he never saw her again? He could barely even function without Ladybug, much less keep on living without her. His fingers pressed into the red toy, and he held onto it for dear life. How did Ladybug do it? Did he copy her? Certainly, he'd memorized each and every one of her muscles as she moved to capture akumas—she shone brilliantly with a job well done, and it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

He tried immensely to keep himself from thinking that perhaps he would never see her shine like that again, but the distress kept seeping into his body, making every movement heavy. Focus, focus. What does Ladybug do?

The akuma had alighted on a nearby flower, and was fluttering happily in the final rays of the day's sunlight. Chat attempted to swing Ladybug's yo-yo at it, but it fell short, and instead of the magic taking over the black butterfly, the whoosh of air simply made it flutter away.

Growling, Chat Noir's grief was starting to shift to fury, and it was that anger that gave him the determination to succeed. More confident this time, though it felt distant, as if he wasn't quite feeling it himself, Chat poised to try again.

The second try was different. He felt the magic go through him, tickling over her nerves from his toes to his chest, to his fingertips. This time, his mark hit true, and he allowed himself a small amount of rejoicing when the yo-yo snapped over the akuma, then, as he pulled it it, opened to reveal a white butterfly.

He blew at it to stir it, shooing it away in a much less gentle manner than Ladybug had ever released an akuma, but the same job was done. Okay, so progress was being made. Now he just needed to use the cure, which was more easily said than done. Did he use the lucky charm? He shouldn't need it, seeing as Ladybug didn't either, but maybe it helped? He didn't know. Chat had no idea what he was doing, and none of his thoughts seemed to mean anything, instead just a catastrophe of panic and loss and confusion.

Going to the mirror, he lifted it, and threw it to the air. Even as his brain formed the words _Miraculous Ladybug_ , his tongue said something different: “Black Cat Catastrophe!”

Nothing happened for a moment, and Chat stood there, unwilling to yet give up hope, as he held his breath in anticipation. Then, over the horizon, he saw a shadow, and it spread across the sky, ghost-like figures of panthers snapping and growling at each other as they galloped across the dying light of the sun. Everything vanished into darkness—even Chat's night vision was rendered useless—until they passed

When the ability to see was returned to him, Chat was met with the sight of his Lady, blinking in confusion from where she had stood when she had thrown her yo-yo. Chat lunged for her, wrapping himself around her in a crushing embrace.

“Chat, Chat...” She said, laughing at first at his intense concern, and then sobering as she felt him tremble against her. “Chat, what's wrong? You did it. I knew you could.”

Somehow, he found his voice: “I-I thought... I thought I would never see you again, Ladybug.”

“Oh, Kitty,” she cooed at him, and wrapped her arms around him in a rare sign of affection from her. Certainly he'd been pursuing her for all their years together, but only occasionally did she return any of his emotion. Her fingers played idly at the hair on the nape of his neck, and he melted.

They sank to the ground like that, Chat clutching onto her as the emotional maelstrom ran its course through body. Ladybug ignored the stares of confused onlookers who had now been returned to their original existences at the park. The previously akumatized man himself was kneeling a few meters away, but by now the people of Paris knew well enough how to help a victim of an akuma, and the duo paid little attention to the aftermath as of late.

Chat was torn between feeling unbelievably happy and undeniably wracked with guilt. It was his fault. His fault he'd almost lost her. And then what would he do? _A Chat Noir without Ladybug_ , the thought from earlier, rang through his head, and made his insides churn. He couldn't do that. He wasn't strong enough. He was so utterly dependent on her, on her presence, on her words, on her gentle touches, her bravery, her pride, kindness, ability... Everything.

“I'm so sorry,” he choked out against her shoulder. “So sorry. I'm sorry—”

“Shush, Chat,” Ladybug said to the crown of his head. “It's fine. I'm fine. We're okay. You did good. I'm proud of you.”

Chat pressed his lips together, not willing to let himself believe the words. It would be far too good a day for him to accept being content after he almost said goodbye to his Lady forever. He nodded, and she pressed her cheek to his forehead, tightening her grip for a moment. Then her earrings beeped.

Chat forced himself to peel away from her. He didn't want to let go. The absolutely selfish part of him cried celebration at being held—held!—by Ladybug, but the rest of him screamed with blame, and the simple desire for reassurance that she was there and okay and still his. Ladybug gave him a final gentle scratch behind his ears as she rose, and went to retrieve her yo-yo off of the ground from where Chat had dropped it when he'd run to her.

Then she held out her hand to him, and helped him get up on unsteady feet for a moment. He still felt sick, body worn out by the tumble of emotions, not to mention the physical beating he always took when battling akumas.

“Pound it?” Ladybug offered a closed fist, and Chat found the strength to return the gesture, though he said nothing. She offered him a soft smile. “Meet me where we start patrols in about two hours. I'll talk to Tikki, and we'll figure out this whole channeling thing to get you back to normal, okay?”

Chat nodded, and found his tongue enough to mutter, “Yeah.”

As the affront of grief and distress began to fade, he could feel it now: the itch of which Plagg spoke. It gnawed against the spot on his back between his shoulder blades, and he reached behind to touch it with careful claws. Physically scratching found no relief, and in fact almost seemed to make it worse, so he figured it best to leave it alone.

Reaching at his hip, Chat was glad to find his baton, apparently restored to its owner when he preformed his cure. He was thankful for that, at least; it would have been a long walk home.

 

Finding time to lock herself in her room to talk to Tikki had taken Marinette a bit longer than she had expected. She was first confronted by her mother, the worried flurry that was Sabine Dupain-Cheng, who fretted over Marinette as she crafted an excuse as to why she was late coming home from school. Of course, by now, she was old enough to be trusted out on her own, but hanging out with friends was often accompanied by a quick text to her parents so they wouldn't be waiting for her.

She ended up spewing some half-truth, about how she'd met a classmate at a park to go over a project, but there had been an akuma attack nearby, so she'd laid low until it the problems were solved. After a tight, lung-crushing hug from the small woman, Sabine let Marinette go, but then her father had requested her help with the bakery, and she had been tied up with that for most of the two-hour time she'd allotted herself to get things done before meeting with Chat again.

As a result of her parents interference, however, she was now running late. She hated to make Chat wait, but, on the other hand, she knew he'd wait an eternity for her if need be. The thought made her heart clench as she swung through the air to their usual meeting spot, yo-yo carrying her swiftly to her destination.

She didn't see him as she arrived, but when her feet landed squarely upon the roof of the building, Chat looked meekly around the corner of the chimney he was leaning against, facing away from her.

“Hey,” she said as greeting, but he turned back around and disappeared from view. Ladybug put her hands on her hips, contemplating Chat's behavior for a moment, before stepping forward to bring him back into view.

He had slouched against the chimney, and was now sitting on the roof, his back against the brick, and his elbows slung over his knees in a relaxed position. As she looked him over, however, she realized he was the opposite of relaxed. Though he seemed to be giving off the impression of nonchalance, she could tell his muscles were straining underneath his suit, tensed all over his body, as he held himself perfectly still.

“Chat?” she said, softly, and knelt next to him. She reached out to gently touch his shoulder, but he flinched away from her, his whole body twitching in response. Broken out of his statuesque tensing, then curled into a ball, wrapping his arms around his legs as he drew them in, and whimpered. “Chat,” she said, more sternly. “Let me help you.”

Then, he spoke for the first time, peering out from where he hid his head behind his knees. A choked whisper: “Please.” Then, with slow and exactly precise movements, he uncurled himself. Shifting so his back was to her, he reached for his collar, and she realized his fingers were trembling. Tugging at the bell, he peeled his suit away from his upper body, revealing his shoulder blades to her.

Ladybug took a sharp intake of breath, gasping through her teeth. Spanning between Chat's shoulder blades were red scratches—not by claws or teeth, so it couldn't have happened during an akuma attack, not that anything got through their suits anyway—the skin raw and broken in spots, red dotting and dashing in lines across his back. Gingerly, Ladybug extended a hand to Chat's shoulder, pressing carefully into the skin but giving the damaged area a wide allowance. “Oh, Chat,” she whispered. “I'm so sorry. We should have done this sooner.”

“Just—please,” Chat gritted out, and she realized he was tense again, apparently resisting the urge to scratch. She couldn't let him do that now, not with his claws. His back looked horrid enough already.

“Okay, okay,” Ladybug said, pulling herself together. “...I don't know exactly what I'm doing, but Tikki explained it to me. I'm going to try and help as much as I can, but she said it took practice, sometimes, and I also don't know how you'll respond. She said it varies case-by-case... And-and... And I'm rambling and I'll get on with it, but God, Chat, what did you do to yourself?”

Chat let out a whine in response. She didn't blame him whatsoever, but she shook her head all the same at the sight of him. Was the exchange of their powers so horrible? Did it always leave such destruction in its wake? And if so, how did one ever, ever survive the trade? It made her dizzy, just thinking about it.

Taking a deep breath, Ladybug pressed her free hand against the center of the damage on Chat's back, where she presumed he felt the strongest of the aftereffects of using the cure. His body twitched, but he didn't move away, and Ladybug whispered apologies under her breath about the pain, even though there was nothing she could do.

Focusing as best she could, she tried to feel the _nature_ of Chat, as Tikki had told her to search. In her mind, she peeled herself away from physical feeling, thinking only of the pressure of her hand against his back. What bloomed in her mind was a sense of fullness—completion—as she was reunited with the “dot” of good luck within her partner. The only way she could describe the sensation was as if she was wading through layers of Chat Noir, sifting through his existence.

She caught glimpses of emotions from his life—regret, pain, pressure, ambition, pride, exhilaration—and already felt like she was prying far more than she should, but she continued searching. Then, there it was. Tucked away beneath a field of admiration, Ladybug found a bubble of good luck. She grasped at it in Chat's mindscape and tugged.

Chat let out a cry, and began to pull away, but Ladybug, trying very hard not to lose focus, reached her hand around his front side, pulling him closer so that she remained in contact with the source of the itch. Her hand felt warm, and even through her suit, Chat's skin felt feverish under her fingertips, but she had to finish this.

So she honed in on the good luck in Chat, and kneaded at it, pulling off bits and pieces, and siphoning it into her own self. Each drop brought her closer to being whole, and part of her reveled in the thought, but Tikki had warned her of the danger of taking it all: she would kill Chat Noir. The thought of hurting him at all was enough to reel in her greed, and when she felt Chat begin to relax under her hand, she pulled back from his existence and returned to her own.

Chat was breathing hard, in her hands, when she her eyes once again saw the physical world. For a moment, heat rose to her cheeks at the position they were in: her pulling Chat's back against her, with only her arm between her body being completely flush to his. She released him hastily, and began to stand to make her escape, but Chat reached out and caught her wrist before she could flee.

“Ladybug,” he gasped. “Please, stay for a moment.”

Ladybug pressed her lips together in contemplation. Would the company really hurt? She had to get back to do homework, but a few moments with Chat wouldn't put her that far behind. Sitting back down in front of him, she let him catch his breath.

“It burned,” he said, after he composed himself some, zipping his suit back up. Ladybug pretended that she didn't notice the lithe muscles of his chest. Thankfully he didn't catch her stare as he continued speaking, “Not because of the damage—when you started fixing me, it burned. I didn't mean to pull away, I just—it scared me. I felt like I was on fire.”

“I'm sorry,” Ladybug said to him. She really was. While Tikki was right it was becoming far more necessary that they be prepared for emergencies, she was far less happy about damage this was doing on her partner. “I don't think I can change that.”

Chat nodded, but she continued: “And I'm sorry I can't fix the damage on your back.”

“That was my own fault,” he said. “I couldn't control myself. I'll get better at it, I think. Plagg said the first time was always the worst. I just wasn't expecting... It's so...”

“Overwhelming?” Ladybug offered, but Chat shook his head.

“Consuming.” He stared at the ground. “I went home and tried to focus on other things. I could feel it, but at first it was bearable. I was trying to distract myself by doing homework, and it was working for a while, but then Plagg started freaking out. I don't know what's up with him all of the sudden. I've never seen him this... emotional before. He's usually just a dick.”

Ladybug gave an amused snort, and gave a thankful prayer to the sky that she had the ever-comforting Tikki as her kwami. Chat pressed his palms into his eyes tiredly. “I don't know,” he continued. “I think he had some sort of breakdown, and then the itch got ridiculously hard to ignore. I think it's because of the connection with the kwami. Whatever was happening to Plagg affected me, or something.

“I just...” Chat paused and met her eyes, green boring into her. She was used to his humor and lightheartness, but neither of those were present in his stare, and the intensity of unidentified emotion in his gaze surprised her. “I never want to go through that again.”

“We might have to,” Ladybug reminded him gently. She reached out to rest her hand on his ankle.

He grasped at her, taking her hand in his own and squeezing. “No,” Chat said sternly. “I mean it. I will do anything— _anything—_ to protect you, Ladybug. I can't live without you, can't breathe, can't think. You disappeared, and I didn't know what to do. I would have traded the world to get you back. You know I've loved you from the start, but this is beyond that. Even now, as partners and nothing more, you're everything I have. I can't let you go.”

“Chat...” Ladybug said, unsure what else to say. She did know he loved her, at least, to some degree. She wondered often what his definition of love was, whether she was just attractive because she was the only other hero in Paris, or if he honestly felt a connection with her, but if that was the case, then why didn't she feel it towards him? She had always assumed love required two sides to be true, so in her mind, Chat's unrequited emotions were merely infatuation.

But it had been years. She had gotten curious, once, a few months ago, and asked if he'd ever had a girlfriend. He'd laughed and said he only had eyes for her, then suddenly had become serious. He had answered her plainly, then, a simple “no” and then the solemnity was gone, replaced with a grin and a wink and a “would you like to apply for the position?”

Suddenly realizing he was still holding onto her, he dropped her had as if she'd burned him (though, ironically, perhaps she had earlier). “Sorry,” he said, and then pulled his knees to his chest again. “I'm sorry.”

“Chat, it's okay, really. I'm not upset with you at all. You did a good job. We're both learning. It will take practice. We'll both get better at things. Speaking of, I think we should add an extra night of patrolling, and instead practice at least once a week with each others' weapons.” She was already busy enough, and adding an extra night of superhero duties wasn't Ladybug's favorite idea, but she felt it necessary, at least for a little while. She'd cope.

Chat nodded, and then silence fell upon them.

Minutes passed, Ladybug facing Chat as she sat cross-legged on the roof, watching his body language. He remained curled in on himself, hugging his knees to his chest uncertainly, and he only occasionally looked up to meet her gaze. She didn't care that she was staring at this point, especially when Chat apparently wasn't feeling up to making a jab at her “checking him out.”

“Alright,” she said, breaking the silence. “What's wrong?”

Chat's head jerked up. “I... Nothing,” he said, but his tone was the opposite of resolute.

“Tell me.”

“I'm not sure,” he said finally. “I just feel off. I think it's because of the whole situation today. I'm still kind of in shock I almost lost you. This wasn't my greatest of days.” He stared at the ground between them, as if refusing to look at her. “It's just... been so long.”

“What do you mean?” Ladybug asked, but Chat just shook his head in response. “Chat? What's going on? You can tell me. I'm your partner.”

He winced when she pulled the _partner_ card, but shook his head again. “It's nothing. It's okay. You don't need to worry about it. I'll be better by the time we patrol again, probably. It's probably just the effects of everything.” He rose, slowly, still not meeting her gaze, and grabbed his baton off his hip. “I'll see you the day after tomorrow?”

“Friday, yeah,” Ladybug said, and decided for now it was best to let him go. He had far too rough a day for her to hound his troubles out of him, and perhaps it was better that they both just go home and rest. Well, he might rest. She had homework to do, still. Chat nodded at her, and then took off across the rooftops. She watched his figure disappear into the darkness, thoughtful, and then she, too, made her way home.

 


	2. Act II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marichat brought to you by Cake by Melanie Martinez

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going to update this for another couple of days, but I am WEAK and also this story was super well-received and I wasn't expecting that ?? Thank you everyone wow  
> I also have a feeling the marichat chapter is gonna get quite a bit of attention  
> warning: mild sin (nothing explicit, but boobs. Boobs happen. Enjoy.)

Two days later, as Friday morning rolled around, Marinette was still concerned for her partner. So much so were her thoughts preoccupied by Chat Noir that she hadn't even missed Adrien's absence from school the day before. It was Alya that had pointed out her distraction, and Marinette had waved it her away as it being an “off day.” Alya had given her a shrug, then allowed it, with the promise that if Mari was still out of it the next day that she was going to get a thorough interrogation.

But her absent mindedness was still yet to wreck its havoc upon her day. By some miracle, she had gotten out of bed at a decent time, and managed to actually be slightly early to school, rather than her usual average of fifteen minutes late. Yawning as she plodded along, she was about ready to give up the mental exhaustion she'd put herself through the day before wracking her brain for an explanation as to Chat's behavior. Its was getting to the point that she could only write it off as the lingering effects of the cure he used, but it felt like there was something _more_.

She was shaking her head to try and rid herself of the haunting thoughts of Chat Noir when she quite literally ran into someone. Whoever they were, they were taller than her, and sturdier than her, and Marinette bounced off them, falling back in a flustered heap. “Sorry,” she muttered out, before a velvet voice sent her nerves on fire.

“Whoa, Marinette. Are you okay? No, I'm sorry, I should have been paying more attention.”

“A-A-Adrien!” she managed to splutter, and when she jerked her head up to look at him, he was bent slightly, reaching out to help her up.

She shot up like a firework. “Fine!” she practically shouted at him, and then reigned in herself to at least a manageable degree. “I-I'm fine,” she assured, confident and probably still a little to loud, but at least passable as normal human interaction. “I-It was my f-fault. I was distracted.” Even with Adrien in front of her, flooding her senses, the thought of her earlier distraction alone was enough to cause the corners of her mouth drop into a frown.

“Is something wrong?” Adrien asked.

“No! N-Nothing,” she hastily replied. “No, it's okay. I-I'll, uhm, see you in class?” She had meant it to be a statement, but her voice pitched up at the end, resulting in a question. Still, Marinette clung onto some pride that she hadn't fallen apart while she talked to Adrien alone— _alone!_ That in and of itself was a miracle.

“Yeah, sure,” Adrien said easily, and she gave him a small wave as she turned to go up the front steps.

Alya made a surprised noise in the back of her throat when Marinette flopped into her usual seat. For the past year, now that she was legally an adult, Alya had been delegated the duty of getting her younger siblings to school in the morning, and thus was always especially early to class. “Okay, so an 'off-day' or whatever excuse it was yesterday, and today you're actually _on time_? What's going on with you? Something's up.”

“Nothing's 'up,'” Marinette protested, and flopped face down onto the desk. That, at least, was normal behavior for her, even with a full classroom, but right now it was empty, save Rose who was folding paper stars at her desk in the back of the room. As the end of the school year loomed ever closer, students were less likely to be interested in puctuality.

“Except you,” Alya pointed out. “On a Friday. Normally you're like 3 hours late on Fridays.”

Considering last Friday there was an akuma attack in the morning, she _was_ 3 hours late, so Alya did have a point. But she wasn't always that bad, and Marinette turned her head to pout at her friend. Deciding it was best to try and avoid coming up with any sort of excuse for being early (because, honestly, she didn't really have one), Marinette said, “I ran into Adrien this morning. Literally.”

“Oh my God,” Alya said, and Mari heard the chuckle in her voice. “What happened?”

“We said like two sentences to each other, apologizing, and then I came in here.”

“I think two sentences is a new record,” Alya teased, and prodded Marinette's shoulder with a finger.

Marinette groaned. “Shut up,” she mumbled, though she didn't mean it, and Alya knew it. “I'm not getting anywhere with him anyway.”

“Whoa, whoa, where's this coming from?” Alya quickly jumped to say. “You've always been super devoted to him. Why the pessimism now?”

“I'm... Not sure,” Marinette finally concluded. She had an idea: the thought of Chat still lingered in the back of her mind, ever a dampening upon her mind, and perhaps heart. “It's just been years, and I still can't hold a conversation with him. We're barely even friends; how can I expect more than that?”

“Well, maybe you should be a little more go-getter,” Alya said, and bumped her shoulder against Marinette's. “Why don't we invite him to go to lunch with us today?”

“When I told you I said two sentences to him, I didn't say they were good sentences. I don't think I can.”

“Then I'll ask, and you will nod enthusiastically,” Alya announced. “Look, here they come now.” Marinette lifted her head to see Nino and Adrien approaching the door. Nino was gesturing wildly with his hands as he spoke, and Adrien's face lit up as he laughed. Alya verbally assaulted them as soon as they were through the door: “Nino, Adrien! Mari and I were going to try this little coffee house we found for lunch, you guys wanna come?”

“I'm down,” Nino said, then turned to Adrien. “What about you, Bro?”

“Sounds fun,” Adrien said, beaming. His smile fell only slightly, “But you'll have to give me the address because I don't think I'll be allowed to walk there.”

“No problem,” Alya said, already ripping a sheet of paper from a notebook and scribbling away. She thrust it in Adrien's general direction, but paper, being paper, resisted against the air and lingered feebly in the space between them for a moment before tipping to the ground.

Marinette, watching the exchange, more out of instinct than anything, lunged forward, latching onto the paper as she flopped onto her stomach on her desk. The commotion startled Nino, who jumped and cursed, but Adrien remained calm, reached out of steady her shoulders before she tipped forward. It was unnecessary—even Marinette on the klutziest of days wouldn't be able to shift her weight over the desk when she was practically laying on it—but she appreciated the gesture anyway, especially when Adrien's touch sent nervous but delicious spikes of electricity down her spine.

“Uh,” she said intelligently. “Here.” She handed him the paper as she wiggled back until she was once again safely in her seat.

“Damn, you have some amazing reflexes, Mari,” Nino observed.

Marinette shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “You learn to react pretty quickly once you've stabbed yourself in the fingers with sewing needles enough times.” The real reason was obvious to her: being Ladybug tended to increase any sort of physical trait at least to some degree, but she couldn't very well tell her friends that.

“That's right,” said Adrien, folding the paper and putting in his back pocket, then locking Marinette in his emerald gaze. “You're interested in fashion design.”

She felt honored he even remembered her name, much less her hobbies. She nodded, curling in on herself slightly as she shied away from open conversation with Adrien. She'd already made a fool of herself once, did he really feel the need to push her to do so again? But Alya was right: maybe Marinette really did need to be more aggressive in pursuing Adrien. Sure, she was painfully obvious with her crush, but maybe he wanted her to show more interest than just fangirling. After all, everyone he met fangirled over him—he was a model for Christ's sake!

So she took a deep breath, and continued: “Yeah... I-I, uhm, make a lot of my own clothes. Your dad is kind of like a god to me when it comes to fashion.”

“Your designs are really great!” Adrien said quickly, as if surprised she was speaking to him and didn't want her to drop the topic. “Well, I mean, I haven't seen many, but, I'm sure they're all amazing. I still have your hat, you know. Not in the same room... because, well, allergies, but it's there.”

Part of her was about to explode. “R-Really?” she said, and suddenly she couldn't stop smiling. “I-I'm glad you l-liked it.” So her stutter wasn't under control, but she was getting somewhere. They were having an _actual_ conversation, and she wasn't making an idiot out of herself, and Adrien complimented her, and this may have been the greatest day of her life.

Then the bell rang, though, and their teacher instructed everyone to settle down. Anyone who hadn't trickled into the room during the past few minutes now hurried in, and Adrien and Nino were forced to turn away from her and Alya. Adrien gave her a soft smile before he sat.

Alya nudged Marinette's leg with her foot and raised her eyebrows suggestively before turning to the front. Marinette couldn't contain her happiness. Today was amazing.

 

At lunch, the four of them met at the cafe Alya had mentioned, a few blocks from the school. Adiren was right, he wasn't allowed to walk, but he didn't miss much beyond Alya and Nino's bickering over what type of media was the most influential in modern day society. They were still arguing when Adrien joined them at the table, sliding into the booth next to Nino with a salad on his tray.

Nino and Alya both began petitioning for him to referee the argument and choose a winner. They'd already tried with Marinette, but she had learned long ago to not take sides when it came to the two of them, and thus blatantly refused. Adrien raised his hands up defensively as they both spewed positions at him.

He was saved from answering by a commotion across the room. One of the baristas was making a scene with a man who sat nearby the register. “How dare you!” she screamed, grabbing the man's coffee and dumping it down the front of his shirt. “It's over! We're done! Get out!” The man looked furious, but before he could retaliate, the manager of the cafe approached to attempt to diffuse the situation. Before he could start speaking, though, the barista angrily took off her apron, struggling with it only for a moment, and thrust it into his hands before bursting out the door. It slammed shut behind her.

“Whoa,” Nino said, “Drama.”

Alya nodded in agreement. “He must have been a dick for her to be so mad.”

“Hey, hey,” Nino argued, “Why is it always the guy's fault?”

Alya was about to protest, but Adrien cut in before they could start quarreling again: “I hope I'm never in that situation.”

“I think there are much better girls who like you, my friend,” Nino comforted, patting Adrien on the shoulder.

Adrien made a noncommittal noise. “No one likes me. Not like that.”

Alya, spluttering as she took a drink from her soda, nearly did a spit-take. Suddenly a flurry of emotions that Marinette couldn't pinpoint in such a short time, Alya burst out, “You didn't tell him?”

“You told me not to!” Nino squeaked, shrinking back.

“That doesn't mean you're actually not suppose to!” Alya cried.

“Why are women so confusing?!” Nino slumped back in against the booth. Alya glared at him.

“Tell me... what?” Adrien said, looking confused.

“See?” Alya huffed, gesturing wildly at the puzzled, slightly scared, blond. Marinette did suppose Alya could be a bit... a little... maybe a lot intimidating when she got excited. By now, Mari was immune, but Adrien had far less contact with the amateur journalist. “He's absolutely oblivious!”

At this point, Marinette's mind had mostly wandered, but she _should_ have been paying attention. Considering the route the conversation was taking, they were getting into dangerous territory. Sure, Adrien must have known she liked him, and it hurt to hear him say no one did, but really, it had been such a long time since they even hung out that he'd probably just thought she wasn't interested anymore. Saying it out loud was another matter entirely, though.

 

Adrien wasn't sure if he was scared or not, but he knew he was definitely confused, and he would very much have liked to know what was going on. “What is it you didn't tell me? Why am I oblivious?” he honed in on Nino and Alya, who shared a look, glanced at Marinette as she watching pedestrians through the window, and then met gazes again.

Nino shrugged, Alya glared at him, then sighed, and then together they said: “Marinette's liked you for, like, years.”

Adrien and Marinette were both suddenly spluttering at the same time. Marinette made a squeak of utter surprised and hissed an accusatory: “Alya!” at her friend, before blushing a deep share of red.

Watching her, Adrien decided he didn't mind the shade on her cheeks. The Chat Noir in him would have very much liked to bring that color out again, but he instead focused on the conversation at hand. “Wait, what?” he said to the table.

“I told you he's oblivious,” Alya said, crossing her arms over her chest stubbornly, as if she was winning an argument.

“I never disagreed with you on that,” Nino quipped.

Seeing as Alya and Nino weren't going to be any help whatsoever, Adrien turned to Marinette. “You like me?”

She shrunk back into her seat as he looked to her. She was pressing her hands into her lap, and staring down, but she glanced up to meet his gaze once before giving him a small nod and blushing even more profusely. “I-I thought you knew,” she said softly, the words falling from her lips and landing in her lap.

Adrien shook his head. “I, uhm, don't recognize social things very much. Homeschooling and all that.” Oh, God, how did he react to this? Sure, Marinette was cute and nice and just generally amazing, even if a little klutzy sometimes, but he was absolutely and entirely in love with Ladybug. But he couldn't very well go around saying that—she'd think him crazy, and he would have liked to think of her of a friend, if nothing else.

So he scrambled for a reason, and fell back upon the excuse his father had always used when Adrien asked for anything: modeling. He prayed it didn't sound like the excuse that it was when he spoke, “I, uh, well, sorry, Mari, but I can't really date, with the modeling and everything. I'm really sorry.”

She nodded, and offered him a small, slightly broken smile. Shit, he'd hurt her. How could he fix it? Was there anything he could do to fix it? He didn't love her, no, and it would be unfair to far too many people if he dated her, but he'd never meant to hurt her. “It's okay,” she said softly, barely audible over Alya and Nino's squabble. “I figured... something like that.”

Adrien was flailing to come up with something to say to make her feel better, and failing. In a way, he was almost thankful for the akuma. Alya looked excited to be in on the action, Nino looked terrified, and Mari spluttered some excuse about getting home before her mom worried, and ran out the side door. Adrien muttered something at Nino about checking on Marinette, and went out the same exit, but ducked the other way.

 

The akuma rammed through the doors, fury in her blazing eyes, as she made her way to the man and manager across the room, who were still discussing something. The man's gaze was terrified as he was suddenly enveloped in a glass jar, trapped. “I am the Keeper! You're mine forever now!” the akuma cried.

Chat Noir and Ladybug arrived at the same time, and he realized she must have been nearby. Ladybug was already reacting, tangling her yo-yo around the Keeper's legs and flinging her back through the front door, safely away from the manager and trapped man. This caused an obvious issue with the Keeper not taking very kindly to the action, and quickly rising from where she'd landed in a pile on the street.

“Where's the akuma?” Ladybug asked, scanning the villain as she came up beside Chat Noir.

“Her broach,” Chat realized, blinking against the noon sun. He'd seen it earlier, he remembered; her apron had caught on it as she tried to remove it. He wondered, vaguely if Hawkmoth was getting closer and closer to his civilian self. First the photographer, and now the barista in the cafe he was eating at. Would it be safer for Paris if he just left? He and Ladybug were the targets, after all. Maybe it would be better to run.

The akuma broke Chat from his thoughts, conjuring up glass roses, stems sharped into points, and aiming them at the superhero duo. He and Ladybug both flung themselves to the side, splitting apart but successfully dodging the attack.

“I am the Keeper!” their opponent announced, again, though Chat supposed this was technically their first introduction in the suit. “I have all that you have lost. I can return it for you in exchange for your miraculous.” Before them, in front of the Keeper, materialized a large glass container, much like the one which the man had been trapped.

At first, it was empty, and Chat, confused, looked to Ladybug for direction. He watched, perplexed, as her hand flew to her mouth and her gaze wavered, just beginning to be clouded with tears. Chat realized she must have seen something when the jar came into existence, and he looked over to see what it was.

He was greeted with the stunning face of his mother, slender and perfect despite the sorrowful expression on her face. Chat's heart broke, and he rose from his crouch, taking a step forward. He knew, _knew_ , it was a trick, but then how did the akuma know who he was? How did it know to show him _her_?

He blinked back tears, refusing to cry, but it had been so, so long since he'd seen her face except for the looming painting in his father's office. All the pictures they once had were gone, hidden away on Gabriel Agreste's orders. He just wanted to see her, once more...

With a cry, Ladybug was suddenly next to him, and then gone, and then the glass shattered. His baton, he realized: she'd taken his baton and broken the image. The vision of his mother flickered, and then faded away. She was gone, again, and Chat found himself gasping for air he didn't know he needed.

The akuma, taken aback by Ladybug's sudden movement, let out a cry when the heroine thrust the end of Chat's baton at her chest. The Keeper doubled, over, conjuring more cutting roses as she did so, but Ladybug was quicker, swinging the baton at the villain's side and getting close in a move that left his lady far too unprotected (Chat noted that if she was going to steal his baton from now on, he needed to teach her to use it). Even as the akuma reached her arms around Ladybug, it didn't matter—Ladybug had already grabbed the broach and snapped it in half.

The cure was quick, leaving Chat with the slight thrill as the magic washed over him, and grateful that everything was back to normal with them. She stepped away from the barista, now kneeling on the ground, and Chat approached her. “Well, My Lady, looks like you don't need me anymore, but I'm sure I could give you a few pointers on using my staff.”

Ladybug didn't meet his eyes as she held his baton out to him. “Who did you see? In the glass.”

Chat did a double-take as she strapped his baton to his hip. “What?”

“The glass—it showed you who you most wanted to see,” she said, voice low.

“Oh, uh,” Chat said awkwardly. She must have seen someone else, and that meant Hawkmoth didn't know who he was. A relief, if nothing else. “My mother,” he finally answered.

She nodded in acknowledgment.

“Why?” he asked. “Who did you see?”

Ladybug shook her head. “It's not important.”

“Oh, come on,” Chat said, and he could hear the exasperation in his own voice. “I have only ever done everything I could for you Ladybug, and yet every time I try to get one tiny piece of information about you, you shut me down.”

“I...” Ladybug started, and then wiped at her eyes with the back of her hands. There was a twinge in Chat's heart, a quick tear through his chest at her distress. He wanted to comfort her, but at the same time, he wanted more—he wanted to know her. “I can't, Chat. I... I just can't.” She took in a long breath, that shuddered as she let it out. “Look, I—It's too much. It won't work. We won't work, not the way you want.”

Chat pressed his lips together. “If that's what you want,” he said slowly, and she looked up at him, almost in surprise, but perhaps she didn't realize how much her words stabbed him. “Fine, Ladybug. We're partners, and nothing more.”

“Are... are we patrolling today?” she asked tentatively.

Chat had already turned his shoulder to her, but he looked back for only a moment. The hurt and apology in her gaze was intense, but for years, _years_ he loved her so much that it hurt him, and a tiny piece of him reveled in causing her the tiniest ounce of pain she'd unknowingly inflicted with his unrequited emotion. “I think it's better if we don't.”

She nodded and hugged her arms against her body, and he turned away before she could add anything else, extending his baton and bounding away. Once a safe distance away, he released the transformation, and sagged against the wall of the alley he'd hidden in. His phone chimed, a text from Nathalie instructing him that his driver was waiting for him, as he suddenly had a photoshoot to do that afternoon, seeing as the last one was ruined. Adrien let out a groan.

It wasn't until later that he realized the pain he felt for Ladybug was probably exactly what Marinette felt, and something in him cried for her.

 

He had told Ladybug he didn't want to patrol that night, but here he was, perched on a rooftop, with his tail twitching unhappily behind him. He hadn't intended to go out, at least, but after being cooped up in a room for a shoot for the past few hours, and then dealing with his father, Chat wasn't exactly keen on playing the obedient child and hiding in his room.

They had argued about the usual: the dangers of the outside world, beyond the walls of the mansion. Or rather, Gabriel at argued _at_ him, and Adrien had nodded quietly, hands clasped behind his back as he played the perfect son. At the end, he said the usual mantra, _it won't happen again_ , and then was dismissed like a servant. Perhaps that's what his father thought he was, perhaps what he would have preferred.

It reminded him how un-Adrien-like he actually was. Sure, Marinette had said she liked him, but how much of him did she actually know? And he wasn't just talking about the personality behind the pretty model's face—he was talking about all of him, cat puns and insecurities and all. So partly because he wanted the distraction—okay, almost entirely because he wanted the distraction, from both his civilian life and Ladybug—he found himself lingering near Marinette's balcony.

The rest of the building was dark, except for the light from her bedroom windows, and eventually, after some debate, Chat let himself down onto the balcony. The trap door on the balcony was open, and he peered down into her room.

Marinette was leaning over her desk (he took a moment to appreciate the view), and was pulling down some posters. Posters of him, he realized, not Chat Noir, but Adrien. Had he hurt her so strongly that he hated him now? Enough to not what to see him? Perhaps though, it was too fresh—he really hoped she didn't hate him—like how he hadn't wanted to see Ladybug that night, but they were partners all the same. Loyalty was stronger than sadness, and hopefully friendship would be too, for him and Marinette.

“You know, Princess,” he called into her room, and she jumped, spinning on her heel and almost knocking over her desk lamp in the process. “You shouldn't leave yourself so open to attack without your knight in shining armor to protect you.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, recovering from being startled, and turned back to her work with the posters. “Well, so far the only attack has been a stray alley cat that decided to get his dirty paws all over my bed.”

“Me-ouch!” Chat cried as he swung in through the trap door, making sure to land, sitting, on the edge of her bed, so that his boots didn't touch it. If she thought his paws were so dirty, well, then fine, he'd be careful. “I'll have you know I keep them very clean. Unless it's requested that I get a little dirty.”

When she raised an eyebrow at him as she looked over her shoulder, he winked. Marinette rolled her eyes, took down the last of the photos, and sighed. Turning so that she leaned with her back to her desk, she caught him in a level gaze. “What do you want Chat?”

“I, uh...” Shit, he hadn't actually thought of a reason to visit her. “...I don't really have an excuse. I was lonely.”

“Lonely?” Marinette said. “Why don't you go hang out with Ladybug?”

Did she sound bitter? Chat cocked his head at her, thoughtful for a moment, and then his gaze dropped. “We aren't like that.” And they never would be, if her words earlier were anything to go by.

Marinette sounded much less confident when she spoke next: “So... why me?”

Chat's ears perked up towards her, and when he looked at her, she was hugging her arms against, as if she was crossing them in anger, but with no emotion of fury in her stance: just insecurity. “Why not you?” he said. “You seem perfectly fine with _Chatting_ , and you deal with my banter, and your kind and brave and cute.” He hadn't meant to say the last one, but it was too late to take back the words now.

Besides, the blush that colored her cheeks was absolutely delicious, and for not the first time, Chat determined red was _definitely_ Marinette's color. She looked away, unwilling to hold his gaze while he grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Can I come in?”

“You already seem to have let yourself in,” Marinette pointed out. “But fine, whatever. Sure. Today's been bad enough, can't get any worst I suppose.”

“It could rain,” Chat said, trying to lighten the mood, “And I then the alley cat would have to slink back home in the cold, freezing downpour, and you'd feel so bad for me, and say 'Oh, why did I send Chat away? The poor thing.'” He pitched his voice up to mimic a female's as he teased her, and dropped down on the main floor of her room.

“No, I'd just let you stay if it started raining that badly. The couch downstairs in free for the night,” she mumbled, taking a seat in her desk chair. She plopped down in the opposite direction and folded her arms over the back. “I'm sure I could scrap together some milk for the poor starving kitten on my doorstep or something.”

“Oh, but what if someone found me? I'm only ever yours Marinette, you'd have to hide me.”

“Parents went to Brussels for the day for a deal in chocolate, and won't be back until tomorrow afternoon. You have the couch all to yourself. I might even give you a blanket if you're good.” She rested her cheek against her folded arms, watching him as he suddenly paused in his absent observation of her dainty room.

“Does that mean the chocolate eclairs will be back in stock?” Chat asked excitedly. He'd been craving those for days! He'd have to tell Nathalie to bring him here as soon as possible after tomorrow.

“You've been to the bakery?” Marinette asked, head popping up.

Chat grinned sheepishly. He may have been slightly too excited and given away a bit more than he meant to, but the bakery was always busy. He'd be one of hundreds to pinpoint, so he didn't feel any threat towards his identity. “I may have, once or twice. The macaroons are the best, but I've been waiting on the eclairs since you ran out.”

She looked thoughtful, biting on her lower lip for a moment before she seemed to decide something. “Stay there,” Marinette ordered, and then leaped away from her chair and flew down the trap door to the rest of the house. Chat's nerves jumped with excitement, but part of him didn't dare hope she was bringing him some of the bakery's goods, while the rest of him tried to convince him that his sudden pounding heart was not because of the delicious view of Marinette's retreating figure as she danced way.

Apparently, though, the night was proving far too good to be true, because within a few moments, Marinette returned with a container filled with multicolored delight. “These are the rejects,” she told him, opening the plastic box and offering the contents to him. “They taste fine, but they weren't pretty enough to be sold in the shop.”

“Marinette, I could kiss you!” Chat cried, lunging towards her. This, this was exactly what he needed: the company of a pretty girl, especially one with food, and night to not worry about what he'd have to face the next day. He ate up the blush on her cheeks with his gaze before grabbing a pink macaroon and popping it into his mouth. He hummed appreciation as he chewed.

Marinette giggled at his excitement (he tried to ignore how his ears perked towards the sound, drawn in), and set the container down on her desk, sitting in her chair again. She motioned at him to take more macaroons, and Chat happily accepted the invitation, lingering nearby her desk in order to steal more treats.

“So...” Marinette started, and then trailed off. She seemed to be debating about something, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

Swallowing the last of a macaroon, Chat encouraged, “Yeah?”

“What happened... with you and Ladybug? I thought you two were close,” she finally said. When she looked up at him, she seemed almost sad, or perhaps regretful. Had she seen their fight earlier? It was quite possible, considering Marinette had taken off only seconds after the akuma attack. She could have been hidden nearby.

Chat sobered in comparison to his previous enchantment with the sweets. Lowering a macaroon he was about to put in his mouth, he let out a soft breath. “We weren't... really. I mean, we're partners, we always have been, and we always will be. But nothing more. That's it.”

“Oh,” Marinette said, and let it drop.

It was Chat's turn to pry. They were in very similar situations, after all. He'd been rejected by Ladybug, and he'd rejected her. It was part of the reason he'd originally come, anyway, to see if he could make up for being such a dick in some sort of way. “What about you and the model you refuse to look at now?” he inquired, gesturing at the posters she'd taken down. “Not to your fancy anymore?”

“It's none of your business, really,” she started, but kept talking anyway. “But... He rejected me today, basically. ...It's fine. I'll get over it, eventually. I'm just so used to liking him I'm not sure what to do now.”

Chat wanted to tell her that she didn't have to stop, but that also meant subjecting her to the same torture of waiting for a love that wouldn't be requited. “I'm sure he means well,” Chat said, partly to try and cover for his own ass, but mostly to try and cheer her up.

“I'm sure Ladybug means well too,” she said, an attempt at consoling him. He knew that, already though, regardless of her words. It still hurt. Who was he kidding, there wasn't anything they could say to each other that would make the situation they were both in any better. They just had to cope and move on. Eventually, maybe, they actually would.

Silence ensued, then, Marinette playing absently with her pigtails. At some point, she gently tugged at the ties and let her hair down, running her fingers through it to rid it of the tangles. After that, she reached for a macaroon, observing it for a moment. “The raspberry ones are my favorite,” she said softly.

It was then that Chat realized she was holding the last raspberry macaroon—and the last of all the macaroons, at that—and a fire was lit in him. “Mine too,” he said, and she looked up, startled at the ferocity of his voice. She must have seen the playful mischief in his gaze, because she was ready when he lunged for her.

Lifting her arm away, she held Chat back with the other as he tried to reach over her to get to the macaroon. She was surprisingly strong, and twisted around him, letting him fall into her desk chair while she danced away, waving the macaroon triumphantly.

Chat recovered himself and lunged again, chasing after her. She made a dash for the loft ladder, but Chat was faster, and just as she reached the base, he picked her up by the waist, lifting her fully into the air. Feet kicking and free arm flailing at his hold, Marinette squealed loudly. Chat, laughing, stumbled over something, and they both went tumbling onto her chaise.

At first the compromising position they found themselves in meant nothing. Legs tangled, Marinette's back against the pillows, and Chat hovering over her at an awkward angle because his hips were caught under hers. Marinette made a victorious noise, stuck her tongue out at him, and then popped the macaroon into her mouth. She looked far too smug to be allowed to get away with it.

And then suddenly Chat Noir was kissing her, quick but hard, and when he pulled away, he licked the sweet flavor from his lips, just as smug as she had been moments before. They stared at each other then, seemingly both in shock. Chat was processing what he just did, but his brain kept coming to the conclusion: _Shit!_

So eventually, the word was voiced, a hushed curse under his breath. “Shit! Marinette, I'm sorry—I didn't mean—I don't know—” he broke off, scrambling for words, but his mind was also scrambling for thoughts, and he couldn't form anything coherent.

“Chat,” Marinette said sternly, and he looked at her in a panic, ears flattened against his head. “Shut up, silly kitty. It's okay.”

“It's... okay?”

“We're both broken right now, and we both need someone to hold. Can we, maybe, just have one night with no strings attached? It's you and me, and no one else. Just for tonight. I'm tired of trying not to cry about a heartbreak I wasn't ready for, and you are a very, _very_ welcome distraction.”

While his heart still hurt, Chat nodded, slowly. “Is this really alright?” Chat asked again. That was what he came her for, wasn't it? A distraction. And here Marinette was offering herself to him, and he was willing. But he wanted her to be sure. He didn't want to do something one of them might regret.

“We're the only two people in the world right now, Chat. It's more than alright.” And then suddenly she was pulling at him, shifting her hips so he was freed. Marinette tugged him down towards her, crashing their lips together.

It was messy at first, with Chat shifting so his body was above her, and the movement caused their teeth to clink together, interrupting the pleasant tingling of her kiss for only a heartbeat. Chat let his body slip lower, until he could feel the heat of her against him, through the suit. Marinette gasped against his lips, and he took the chance to taste her.

Caught off-guard, Marinette left him a sweet moment where he roamed her mouth with his tongue in search of any last traces of the delicious flavor of raspberry, but finding the flavor of her even more intoxicating. It wasn't long before she began to fight back with her own tongue, tangling and pushing and teasing. They fought for dominance, and Chat was sure he was winning until Marinette began scratching along his back and he _melted_.

Pulling back with a shuddering gasp, Chat dropped his head into the crook of her neck as she set his nerves on fire with pleasure. She traced over his shoulder blades, then down to the small of his back, and somehow, _somehow_ she could tell she needed to avoid the spot between his shoulder blades, where the skin was still tender.

It wasn't fair, he thought, he hadn't known he was so sensitive there. Barely holding himself up, Chat was putty in Marinette's hands, even as she shifted, turning the tables so that she was now on top. He ached for her hands on him again, but the pressure of her hips as she straddled his lap was a new and welcome feeling. Grasping at her hips, he ever so gently pricked her with his claws, causing her to jump, slightly, and the movement against his hips caused an unintentional groan to tear out of his throat.

Marinette giggled, reveling in this newfound advantage, and rolled her body against him. Chat's head fell back against the pillows in pleasure. Meanwhile, with Chat distracted by the grind of her hips, Marinette moved to his chest, running her fingers up along his body until they came to rest at the bell on his neck.

With a tug, she ran the zipper down along its length until it stopped just below his navel, exposing his chest, and then her fingers met his bare skin. Chat was a puddle again. He let himself revel in the ecstasy of her touch and heat and kiss, and if she didn't make him feel so damn good, he might have been embarrassed by how loud he was getting.

Eventually, though, when Chat managed to glance at her through lidded eyes, he decided she looked far to smug to be allowed to continue. Grabbing the little succubus that was Marinette by the hips, he switched their positions once again. “This is hardly fair,” Chat said, tugging gently at the hem of her shirt. Another snarky comment would have followed had Marinette not lifted herself off the bed and thrown her shirt to the ground, leaving Chat stunned into breathlessness.

The white lace of her bra was both cute and unbelievably sexy at the same time, and Chat took a moment to drink her in. Marinette's blush was dark against the pale of her skin, trailing down her neck and dusting the tops of her breasts. Chat thought it was one of the most adorable things he'd ever seen. He breathed her name before trapping her in a long, searing kiss, and she gasped his name as he sucked on her bottom lip, biting gently.

It didn't take long though, for Chat's lips to wander to newly exposed skin. Trailing kisses down her jawline, Chat made a point of nipping and suckling his way down her neck to her shoulder. He found a particularly sensitive spot at the soft skin between her neck and collarbone. He was not disappointed when he bit down, and Marinette let out a delicious moan, arching her back towards him. Taking advantage of her movement, Chat slipped his hand underneath her body, holding her up, and moved downward, brushing his lips over the cusp of her breast.

“Is this okay?” he asked against her skin, looking up at her, and in response, Marinette reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, letting it fall to the ground with her shirt. “I could have done that myself, you know,” Chat quipped, probably only able to speak because he hadn't yet looked down.

“N-Not with your claws,” she said, and he was pleased to hear she was slightly breathless.

In protest, Chat poked his claws gently into her back, and she jumped, the curve of her breast brushing against his chin. “You're a devil,” Marinette told him.

“And you're a temptress,” Chat shot back, before lowering her back down against the chaise. He sat back and admired her bare chest, trailing a single claw up her stomach, and circling one breast before reaching out and squeezing gently. Marinette arched up against his hand, letting a gasp escape her lips. “Eager, Princess?” Chat teased.

“Devil!” she just huffed at him. Chat grinned.

He dipped back down, brushing his nose over her breast, and this time Marinette tensed, breath hitching in anticipation. The sound of her crying out his name when he gently bit down on the sensitive nub of her nipple was music to his ears. Chat lapped her up, reveling in the sound she made as he nipped and teased with his tongue, while his other hand kneaded soft flesh. God, she was so much _more_ than just a distraction.

She ran her hands through his hair, occasionally causing his own breath to catch as he worked on her, and then moved to his shoulders. She tugged at his suit and then let out a growl. “Chat—” she gasped out and gently pushed at his shoulders. He pulled back immediately, in a panic. Oh, God, this was it—he'd done something wrong and now she was going to get rid of him, just like Ladybug...

“Chat,” she said, breathless. “Your suit is going to make this difficult. Is there any way...?”

Oh. No, there was no Ladybug, not tonight. Tonight it was only Marinette. She was right, however, and he furrowed his brows in contemplation. An idea struck him, and for the first time in probably years, he was genuinely thankful for the inconvenience of his father's modeling gigs. “Close your eyes,” he ordered, and was mildly surprised by the lust still clouding his own voice.

Marinette did as she was told, and Chat willed the transformation away. If he had any doubts about trusting her, it was too late now. He should have been more careful—if Ladybug found out...No. Just Marinette. Just Marinette today. Plagg flitted out of his ring, made an obscene gesture of hip-thrusting into the air, and then flitted out the balcony trap door. Adrien frowned after him for only a heartbeat, the heat of Marinette against him returned his mind to the task at hand.

“Hang on a second,” Adrien said, and he stepped away from the chaise, removing his dress shoes, as well as his jacket. He held onto the tie he'd been wearing as he continuing undressing his upper body. He went to her desk, hovering only a moment to find a safety pin (she was a designer—she wouldn't miss one), and then returned to her. “Don't open your eyes, but sit up,” he told her.

Marinette nodded, “Okay, Chat.” The other name sent a spike through him. That was right, it wasn't Marinette and Adrien here tonight. It was Marinette and Chat Noir. He was Chat. That was who she needed him to be. He took a breath, and sat behind her, slipping the tie over her eyes, he tied it as best he could, and then pinned it carefully. “That's not too tight, is it?” he asked.

Marinette shook her head, and reached up to adjust the fabric over her eyes. “Is this silk?” she asked, running her fingers over it.

Adrien chuckled softly. He should have known she would recognized it. “Yeah.” His hand fell against her shoulder and rested there.

“Chat?” she said, and he wasn't sure if he liked the name when it wasn't true. “Is something wrong?”

He shook his head out of instinct, even though she couldn't see him. “Nothing,” he said, and moved to sit on the bed behind her. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back flush against his chest. He could feel the indecision in the hum of her being, and continued in order to deter her pressing the subject, “If I said something, it wouldn't be just us anymore.”

And so Adrien buried himself—pulled Chat from his sleeping, because really, Chat and Adrien were the same, regardless of the mask. If anything, Chat was more Adrien than Adrien was. And when he ghosted his lips over Marinette's shoulders, and she gripped his arms around her, he could care less about what name she gave him, as long she kept crying it out, gasping it out in breathless whispers, and moaning it into her pillows as he pleasured her.

The original intention of being a distraction had changed—became darker, needier. Between the gentle shivers as they continued to undress and the heady desire of their movements, Chat realized it had never been about a distraction, but neither was is about them. They wanted to get away from their lost loves, but it was exactly their heartbreak that brought them together. It was never about Marinette and Chat. It was always about Ladybug and Adrien.

The irony of what he was doing to Marinette laid heavy upon him, as they collapsed together, chests heaving, in a hot, sated mess on her chaise. After a few moments, Marinette untangled herself from him, and made her way across the room without removing the tie. She closed the door behind her. Adrien took the moment to send a text to Nathalie, complaining of a headache that was keeping him awake and instructing her not to bother him until noon tomorrow, an excuse he hoped would hold until he got back.

A few moments after Adrien heard a toilet flush, Marinette returned, adjusting the makeshift blindfold so that it covered her eyes as she entered the room. She felt her way forward, reaching for a blanket on the back of the chaise and pulling down on the two of them as she sought out the warmth of Adrien's body. He curled around her smaller form out of instinct, and one of her hands went around his back. Her palm landed against the raw spot on his back, and tingled warmly, but sleep had already caught Adrien in its hold, and in a heartbeat, darkness had enveloped him.

 


	3. Act III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ladrien brought to you by Temporary Bliss by The Cab

Marinette let out a pleasant hum as she awoke—she realized it was far too early for her to be up on a Saturday morning, but her body was accustomed to her schedule. Still, she let herself teeter on edge of consciousness while she only processed the blissful sensation of the warmth of her blankets, enjoying the full knowledge that there was absolutely no demand for her to wake up fully, a luxury she didn't have on school days.

Her mind dully recalled the night before, running over events in flashes of pictures—lunch with Adrien, the akuma, his empty chair afterward, homework, Chat... Chat! It was then that Marinette's eyes snapped open, and she was jolted awake completely. She heard voices, faint, and realized it was probably that which woke her, and not her internal body clock (ha! as if that had ever worked correctly).

The tie had fallen off in her sleep, and the warmth she had mistook for a blanket earlier was Chat, curled against her side as he laid his head upon the soft spot between her breasts and shoulder. She dared to glance down, and was met with messy blonde hair, a tanned shoulder... she jerked her gaze back up. He wasn't transformed; she couldn't. As much as her curiosity was starting to gnaw at her, especially when it would have been so, so easy, it wouldn't be fair to him. Not like this.

“Oh, look who's awake,” came a voice she didn't immediately recognize. A small black figure floated into her view from, she presumed, her desk, where Tikki's hiding spot was. “I told you this would be fun, Tikki.”

“Plagg!?” Marinette hissed, freezing as Chat stirred against her, tightening his hold on her.

“Plagg, don't be mean,” Tikki said, also flitting near. Even as she scolded Plagg, she was grinning, and Marinette felt a keen sense of betrayal.

“You two are scheming something, aren't you?” Marinette accused. The pair looked far too pleased with themselves. Then again, each Chosen was connected to their kwami, and perhaps the kwami were feeding off Marinette and Chat's... ahem. She cleared that thought from her head before it got too far. It was too weird.

“Not at all,” Tikki said. “We just enjoy each others' company. It's a been a while, since you refuse to reveal yourselves to each other.”

“On the contrary,” Plagg said, nodding along to Tikki's comment that they were indeed, not scheming. “I just very much am enjoying the fact that it's _you_.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing,” he hummed mischievously.

“Now I know why Chat is such a pain in my ass all the time,” Marinette muttered, “It's because of you. You're cute but insufferable, Plagg!”

“I could tell you who he is, you know,” Plagg said, flitting over and peering down at Chat from the other side, so that Plagg could see Chat's face. “I think you might find it quite interesting. And then it wouldn't be your fault—that you knew. It would make things easier.”

“Plagg, no!” Marinette hissed, desperately trying to shoo him away, but also trying to not wake Chat with her movement. A thought occurred to her and her expression turned stricken. “You aren't going to tell him, are you?” she said, mortified. “Plagg, you can't! Please, _please_.”

“He won't,” Tikki said, encouragingly, but Marinette wasn't convinced.

“How do you know?” she said, clutching at the edge of the chaise because, really, she just needed something to hold onto, to keep her head from reeling. Just being in the pitch black room with Chat before, when Tikki and Plagg spoke to them, was bad enough. Now, now that the distraction of Chat's lips and fingers weren't taking up the entirety of her brain, the thought of revealing herself was dizzying once again.

“He won't,” Tikki said, and tugged Plagg away from Chat. “I promise he won't. We agreed.”

Marinette was dubious, but she said no more, especially once Chat began stirring more animatedly at her side. Tikki dove for the desk, going back into hiding, but Plagg began floating aimlessly around the room. Chat yawned, and was about to stretch out when Marinette cried, “Don't look up!” Even though she trusted him to do as he was told, she still squeezed her eyes tightly shut.

“What?” Chat said, sounding confused. “Where... I—Oh. Why, good morning, _Purrincess_.” Chat pressed a sudden kiss against her lips, but with her eyes closed, she didn't see him coming. He chuckled at the startled gasp he drew from her. She scowled at him. He pulled back, and the laughter in his voice had faded when he said, “I... guess I should go, then.”

Marinette didn't reach for him. This was it—there wasn't supposed to be anything more between them. It was only last night, and now they were both plunged back into the world of heroes and heartbreak. But still, she felt bad, to just kick Chat out the door after abusing his heart and then using him. “I—well—uh... If you transform, I can see if I can throw something together for breakfast.”

He wasn't wearing them at the moment, but Marinette could practically see his ears perk up. “It would be rude of me to decline such a _sunny_ opportunity,” Chat said. She chucked a pillow in the direction of his voice.

He pressed a kiss to her cheek, and then she heard him moving about the room in search of his clothes. Then, soon after, she heard him call for Plagg, and she waited for the now-familiar phrase of “Claws out!” but it didn't come. “Hey, Mari,” Chat called instead, “Is it alright if I use your restroom?”

She laughed, surprised at the juxtaposition between reality and her expectations. “Yeah, sure. It's down the hall. Door should be open.”

“Got'cha,” Chat said, and she heard the door close behind him.

Taking advantage of having the room to herself, Marinette set about getting dressed herself. By the time she'd thrown on some clean underwear, an oversized t-shirt, and some pajama pants, Chat still hadn't returned, so she slipped out of the room to head to the kitchen. She passed the bathroom on her way down, however, and, hearing voices, paused to listen.

“What do you mean 'where was I?' I told you, I wasn't—” Chat must have been speaking on the phone, because she doubted his kwami would be wondering where he was the night before. His words were sometimes interrupted by pauses, presumably the other person talking. “No, no of course not. Look, I'm sorry. I needed the stress relief—You know how he is—I'll get back safe before he's back from the pottery company, don't worry.”

Marinette decided she'd heard far too much, and continued downstairs. It was a mistake to pry, and she knew it, but the tiredness in Chat's voice made her sad for him. What sort of life did he have as a civilian? Sure, she'd always been a little curious, but now things were a little more complicated between them, and the smoke and mirrors of identities were becoming too convoluted for her to bear.

Maybe she should have taken Plagg up on his offer.

With a soft sigh, she set upon warming up some leftover croissants, and had just cracked a few eggs into a frying pan when Chat came down, once again suited and ready for action, even if that action was eating breakfast. “Smells divine already, Princess,” he complimented, but she could hear the heavy undertones of his voice.

“How do you like your eggs?” she asked, poking at the yolks of hers to pop them.

“What are my options?” Chat sat at the island, positioning himself on one of the barstools so he faced her back.

“Scrambled and somewhere between over-easy and over-hard.”

“So... over-medium?”

“Only if you didn't ask for over-medium.”

She could practically see him furrowing his brows. “... I'll just take scrambled.” Marinette finished cooking the eggs and split them between two plates, placing a couple of croissants on each. Setting one down in front of Chat, she saw his eyes light up with delight. “I must have been a good kitten last night, if I'm getting breakfast.”

“No, you were even better: you were a naughty kitten,” said Marinette, and then went to the fridge. “Milk or orange juice? Well, and there's water.”

“Milk, please,” Chat answered.

“She started pouring a glass, but yawned halfway through, and managed to spill some milk on the counter, followed but a hissed, “ _Shit._ ”

“Everything alright?” Chat asked. “There seems to have been a _commootion_.”

Marinette groaned. “I'll still kick you out,” she threatened as she wiped up the mess, thrusting a glass of milk at a very smug-looking Chat Noir. “How many puns are in a daily quota? Do you have to start this early?”

“The early cat gets the bird,” Chat said, butchering the saying in favor of adding felines characters. “And the early Marinette gets the jokes.”

“Alright,” she huffed at him, whipping around to pin him with a stare as she put her hands on her hips. Chat looked far too smug about his response. “One, that isn't even the right saying. Two, that wasn't even a pun, that was just really, _really_ , bad. And three, the any-time Marinette gets the jokes, because you always are making puns. It never ends.”

Chat raised an eyebrow at her, a puzzled expression on his face. For a moment, Marinette couldn't figure out why—and then it hit her. She'd only seen Chat a few times as Marinette, and sure, it would be reasonable for her to catch onto his puns, but she had said it in such a self-assured manner that it was bound to raise suspicion. It sounded like she knew him far better than she was letting on. Which was true, but she couldn't tell Chat that without causing a mental breakdown (though, either on her part or his, she wasn't sure). “And how do you know that, Princess?”

Marinette was started to panic, but contained it within her mind, rather than flailing and creating a physical disaster before running away, as was her usual method of dealing with problems. Swallowing hard, and hoping Chat didn't pick up on her nerves, or at least wrote it off as anything but the truth, she said, “Lucky guess?”

His gaze honed in on her, and she felt trapped against the counter under his scrutiny. “Are you especially lucky?”

“No,” she said, a little to quickly. “Not at all.” Her heart thumped against the cage of her chest, but she couldn't find the ability to breath under the intensity of Chat's stare, much less move away. She wondered where he'd learned to turn the dark of his green eyes into such an imposing expression—perhaps the hundreds of battles, with nothing to cloud his intent but her safety. She swallowed, knowing that the gears were turning in his head, and the fear that he would hate her settled against her gut.

That was odd—she would notice later—that she no longer feared being inconsequential, but rather feared she'd hurt him beyond repair. After all, that was how she felt with Adrien.

Finally, his emerald optics flicked away, lingering for a moment at a random position on the wall, and then he cleared his throat. “I—uh—I should go. Superhero duties and all that, not to mention civilian.” His gaze fell when he mentioned his life beneath the mask, and not for the first time, Marinette wondered what was going on. “Thanks for everything, Mari,” Chat said, rising from the stool. “Breakfast was great.”

She nodded, not trusting herself to say anything for the moment, so Chat continued, moving towards her but then stilling a few feet away. “Do you, um, mind if I use the balcony? It's easier to get to the roofs from there.”

“Oh,” said Marinette intelligently. “Uh, sure, no problem.” She began making her way through her house, leading him back to her room. She was sure he knew the way himself, but he must have thought it rude to go through her house without her, especially her room. She let him in, standing near the doorway while Chat bounded up the ladder to her loft bed. He twisted upon the top stair, straining to latch onto the edge of the balcony trap door so that he didn't get his boots upon her bed. The thought warmed her shattered heart—he was always so kind towards her, despite the flirting and puns.

A swath of dark fabric caught her eyes as she ran her eyes over her now-empty room, and she called out, “Chat, wait!”

A golden crown of hair popped down from her balcony, his eyes wild. “What? What's wrong?”

She padded over to her chaise, lifting his tie from the mess of pillows and blankets. The designer in her clung to the fabric, running her fingers along the silk one last time before she gave it back. It was such high-quality: a dark navy in color, but shimmering in the light, and well sewn. Her fingertips brushed the back, finding an embroidered signature of the designer: _Agreste_. No wonder it was so well-made. Climbing the ladder to her bed, she reached up to hand Chat his tie. “You almost forgot this.”

“Oh,” Chat said, taking it from her. “Thanks, Princess,” he said. For a moment, he parted his lips to speak, but no sound came. The moment was tense with anticipation, but for what, Marinette wasn't sure. In the end, he apparently decided to not do anything, and without another word, he turned and fled from her balcony.

 

Alya scowled at the gray sky above them, heavy with the threat of rain. They were ominous skies that matched Marinette's mood, and they didn't do much for Alya's either. Needless to say, their usual antics and cheerfulness was dampened by the storm above them, though there was far more plaguing Marinette than just the impending rain.

The pair had met for lunch at a small cafe, and Alya had seen Marinette's somber expression and thankfully chosen not to press about it. She knew the reprieve would only last so long, and now that they were on their way back to Marinette's empty house, she was sure the reporter in Alya would come out to play. She hadn't yet decided what was worse: the silence when she was left to her own thoughts, or the interrogation that was going to leave her guilty and depressed from the lies she would have to tell.

Letting out a soft sigh as Marinette unlocked the front door, the two shuffled in, thankful they made it back before the rain started. As Marinette collapsed face-first onto the living room couch, Alya leaned over the back. “Alright, Mari, what's up?”

Marinette let out a groan into the pillows, which muffled any sort of coherent speech, not that she was likely to make any. Alya settled herself on the opposite corner of the couch, shoving Marinette's legs out of the way so she could sit. “Come on, you call tell Auntie Alya.”

Marinette curled herself into a ball, resting on her side as she leaned against the armrest. She peered at Alya over her shoulder, raising an inquisitive eyebrow at the name, and then let out another sigh. “I just feel so torn up about everything.”

“And by everything, you mean Adrien?”

“I mean, yeah, I guess. Things kind of spiraled out of control.” Marinette _knew_ she was saying too much... but she couldn't bring herself to care. And, damn it, she was Paris's superhero—if she didn't at least allow herself some girl time, she was going to implode, and theoretically, anything that happened last night would not jeopardize her secret identity.

So she decided to 'spill,' as Alya often put it. Sitting up straighter and shifting so she was facing Alya, Marinette drew her knees to her chest. Up until that point, she recalled it with a dreamlike distortion, but now that she had to face the fact that the night before had, indeed, happened, her mind reminisced with absolute clarity, and her cheeks heated with both embarrassment and fond longing.

Alya raised an eyebrow at Marinette's actions, a silent question for permission to press on about the subject. The journalist gene was in Alya's blood, but she was first and foremost Marinette's best friend, and though she sometimes went overboard in prying, Alya always knew her limits.

With a deep breath, Marinette started. She whispered the words to her legs, letting them fall from her lips like the heavy raindrops that now splashed against the windows. “I slept with Chat Noir last night.”

Alya recoiled, her expression changing from shock to confusion to sympathy and then back to shock. “What?! I—what? How—how does that even work? And why? And I thought you liked Adrien? And who is he? And, oh my God, was he good?”

Marinette settled for giving Alya an unamused, incredulous look. “I am in love with Adrien,” she said softly, feeling the weight of the admission pierce her heart. “Or I was—or... I don't know anymore. I love him, I do. And I feel like I betrayed him, even though we were nothing, but I also don't feel as guilty as I should. I just... Chat and I, we were both so broken, and...”

“...And you found comfort in each other?” Alya offered.

Marinette nodded, and, taking a deep breath, composed herself some. “I don't know who he is—I was blindfolded when he detransformed. I'm not sure if I want to know. It makes it too meaningful. It's better this way, I think.”

“Blindfolded? Kinky. ...But why you? How did this happen?”

Marinette gave a glare and then a halfhearted shrug. “We met a couple of times before during akuma attacks. I don't really know why me.” Perhaps they were closer than she thought, and he knew her as a civilian. It would explain his friendliness towards her, to some degree, but then there was the tie, and she didn't know anyone involved in such high-end clothing except...

“Oh, girl,” Alya said, interrupting that thought. She scooted over and wrapped an arm around her in a one-sided hug. “You've only ever liked one guy, and somehow you've ended up in more of a romantic mess than I ever have.”

“Just my luck,” Marinette grumbled.

“Well, I say,” Alya hummed, suddenly much more peppy. “We forget about Adrien and Chat Noir and watch something dumb that has nothing to do with boys.”

Marinette nodded, and offered Alya a small smile. Within a few moments, they were snuggled together under a blanket, a bowl of popcorn between them and blankets wrapped around their shoulders to keep the cool of the rainy day from nipping their skin.

 

Alya's phone had been buzzing almost incessantly for the past few minutes. The movie they had been watching was almost over anyway, and with its dry humor and lackluster plot, it had been distracting enough to keep Marinette's mind off of her conflicting emotions but also wasn't worth rewinding if she missed something. “What's up?” Marinette asked, mildly curious.

Alya pressed her lips together thoughtfully, eyes scanning her phone. “It's Nino...” she said, voice trailing off until she continued. “He's with Adrien... I, um, maybe you should read this?”

“What?” Marinette squeaked. “Why?”

“Something's up? I think? I'm not entirely sure. Maybe you can help me decipher Nino's texts—you know how he is.”

Marinette did indeed know how Nino was when it came to texting. It was exactly his poor grammar and spelling that made it a game to try and decode whatever meaning he had intended, and as Marinette scooted closer to her best friend, she was met by the same incoherency that always accompanied written communication with Nino.

 

Nino was, to say the least, exceedingly confused. He'd come to Adrien's house after his friend had promised to text him the day before (or at the latest, the next morning) and by now it was past noon. Nino wasn't one for punctuality, for sure, but Adrien—model boy Adrien with his schedules and constant planning—was _always_ punctual. So the lack of correspondence was inevitably going to raise concern.

The dark-haired boy had gone to the mansion with full expectation to be turned away at the door, as usual when he approached the Agreste establishment. But this time, when Gabriel Agreste's somber assistant had answered the door, she'd simply stared him down, glanced back over her shoulder into the house, and then motioned swiftly for Nino to come in.

He got over the surprise quick, the emotion replaced with excitement and triumph as he made a beeline for Adrien's room. The mess that met his gaze when he let himself in was not what Nino expected.

Perfect Adrien was a hot mess (they were approximately 30 percent gay for each other, and as such, Nino was quite comfortable with his masculinity to admit that, yes, his best friend was _hot_ ). The blonde was practically suffocating himself, plopped face-down on his bed, buried in pillows. His closet had been strewn about, clothes littering the ground, and Nino was mostly sure that there were scratches tearing through the couch cushions, despite the fact Adrien definitely didn't have a cat.

“Uh, Bro?” Nino asked, voice bouncing against the tall walls of the room.

There was a muffled noise from the figure laying on the bed.

“Bro, what happened?”

“Mmphf,” came the response, and Nino decided that if Adrien, who, with his amicable personality, normally jumped at the chance to speak to his friends, was unwilling to even greet Nino, then something must have been up. Time to call in reinforcements.

**Nino: ALyA**

**aLYA halp**

**ALYAAAA!!!1!!!!**

**Alya: WHAT**

**Nino: adrien brokn**

**Alya: What?**

**Nino: idk he on bed no movin**

**Alya: Is he alive? Have u checked?**

**Nino: mad noise**

**Alya: uhh?**

**Okay what do u want me to do?**

**Nino: ho do I fix**

**Alya: -.- what**

**Nino: how***

**sry**

**Alya: idk try talking to him?**

Nino had already tried that, but since Alya told him and he practically worshiped the woman, he did what she told him. “Adrien?” Nino called again, and it must have been third time's the charm, because Adrien slowly shifted.

Propping himself up on his elbows, he lifted his head from the pillows, turning to look solemnly at Nino. There were no dark circles under his eyes, but he looked tired, like he'd been worn ragged. “Are you alright?” Nino inquired.

“No,” Adrien said, and threw a shoulder back so that he flipped over. He landed on his back, arms splayed out as if about to make a really sad snow angel. “How'd you get in anyway?”

“Your dad's assistant lady let me in,” Nino said. “I was super surprised too.” Adrien furrowed his brows, as if contemplating what Nino had said, and then with a sigh, closed his eyes wearily, as if thinking was too much effort. “What's going on with you?” An idea clicked in Nino's head. “Is this because of Marinette?”

“No,” Adrien said immediately, followed by: “...yes. I don't know.”

“So it is about Marinette?”

“Kind of.”

“I just... I'm so torn,” Adrien grumped, sitting up. He leaned back on his arms, watching as Nino perched on the back of his couch. “I don't know how to feel.”

“Is this about your Ladybug obsession?”

“My what?” Adrien said, stumbling over his words. “What, uh, what do you mean?”

If the fact Nino had seen Adrien's desktop background and browser history hadn't already given it away, then the nervous reaction would have been an instant giveaway. “Bro,” Nino deadpanned. “Lemme level with you—I've known you for years, and I've seen the way you look at her in photos. You watch her when we see her in action, and, seriously, you stalk the Ladyblog like its your Bible. Don't you dare try and tell me you aren't interested.”

If the desktop background, browser history, and nervous response still hadn't been enough, then the way Adrien's face flushed at Nino's words was the ultimate tell. Nino gave him a smug grin.

“I don't have a chance with her,” Adrien suddenly said, gaze dropping.

“Why not?”

“She's a superhero?” Adrien said tentatively.

“So? You're Adrien _fucking_ Agreste!”

“No, I'm not!” Adrien shouted back, and then looked shocked at his own outburst. He recoiled, wincing as if his own words struck him physically. “Not the way you think I am...” he continued softly. “Even then, I'm not good enough. She doesn't want me. Not the way she knows me.”

He seemed to being saying too much, because Nino _knew_ he was giving away too much, but at this point Adrien seemed to have realized that and seemed to have stopped caring. Tentatively, Nino pressed, “And how is it she knows you?”

Despite his carelessness, Adrien still flinched at the question. “I—uh—Sorry, I don't know what I'm saying... Maybe I'm getting sick.”

“Lovesick, perhaps,” Nino quipped, before sobering. “And no, you know exactly what you're saying. Because you do know her, don't you? You know her better than anyone.”

Nino caught sight of the panic in Adrien's gaze. “What do you mean?”

After years of Adrien stealing all the ladies, Nino reveled a bit in the torture of his best friend. He savored the taste of Adrien's disgruntled expression for only a moment before he put the poor boy out of his misery. “I'm your best friend. I've known for forever. You always did have a thing for cat puns.”

Adrien swallowed, licking his lips nervously. “You aren't upset?”

“Oh, don't get me wrong. I'm still going to beat your ass for not mustering up the balls to tell me,” Nino said cheerfully. Jesus, that sounded terrifying coming out of his mouth, and Adrien must have felt that way too because he visibly paled. Maybe he'd been hanging out with Alya a little too much. “But I'm still your friend Adrien. I always will be.”

Adrien's eyes shimmered, and Nino caught him in a level glare. “I swear to fucking God if you cry right now, I will walk out.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Adrien said, rubbing at his eyes. “Uh... how-how did you find out?”

Nino grinned. He'd been waiting for years to tell this story. “So remember when we first smuggled me in for a sleepover when you first started public school? Well, first of all, I thought it was real weird you could get in and out of your window so easily, but then I had to piss in the middle of the night, but there was this really weird smell from the loft. And since it was the first time I'd really been over, I went to check it out because I was about to get the hell out if you had some weird fetish thing or something going on up there, but then I found this little black floaty thing that was singing about cheese, and he pretty much told me once I cornered him.”

“Fucking...” Adrien trailed off, and then directed his raised voice at the loft, anger evident in his ferocity. “PLAGG! You little shit! Your God damn cheese gave me away from the start!” Adrien reached blindly for a pillow and chucked it towards the loft, barely making it half-way before it tumbled to the floor. Adrien crossed his arms in a huff and grumbled angrily at the ground.

“Is that its name?” Nino asked curiously. He had shared a few winks and smirks with the small creature when they met gazes occasionally, but beyond that, the two had never interacted. Now that it was a topic he was free to discuss, his interest was piqued more than ever.

“Yes,” Adrien said, still sounding upset. “He only eats Camembert, sleeps on literally anything, and apparently has PTSD from past Chat Noirs.”

“Hey, hey, that last part's a touchy subject,” came an angry retort from the loft. Soon after, a small black body flitted down and settled itself on Adrien's pillow, slice of cheese in hand. “Though on the topic of past Chat's, I think you've been the most oblivious,” Plagg observed, waving his cheese at Adrien, who snarled at the creature.

“I swear, if my pillow smells like cheese, I will leave you out in the rain.”

Glancing at the windows, Nino realized the rain had just begun to pitterpat against the glass. He had noticed the gray clouds on his way in, but had been far more focused on his friend than the storm. “Fine, fine,” Plagg said, shoving the entire piece of cheese in his mouth in one bite. He spoke, muffled, around his food: “I cab see wheb I'mb bot wabted.” With a huff, he fluttered back towards the loft.

“Yes, before you ask,” Adrien said. “He's always like that.”

“So anyway,” Nino said, tone indicative of a change in topic. “What's this about you pining over Ladybug?”

“I—uh...” Adrien rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, gaze downcast. “Well, yesterday she basically turned me down—said it was never going to happen. And I was really upset—I mean, I'm still really upset, but just... Fuck, I think I fucked up, Nino.”

Raising an eyebrow, Nino pushed for an explanation. “What do you mean?”

“I had sex with Marinette. As Chat Noir,” Adrien blurted.

Nino fell off the back of the couch.

Scrambling up from the cushions, he leaned over the edge, nearly tipping the other way but barely catching himself before he faceplanted into the hardwood floor. “You fucking what now?!”

“I, um...” Adrien trailed off, looking away as his cheeks colored significantly.

Oh for Christ's sake, he'd slept with the girl and _still_ couldn't tell who she was? Plagg was right about Adrien being oblivious. Nino waved a hand in Adrien's direction. “No, don't tell me again, I know I heard that right. Bruh...” He rubbed the same hand over his face, a sign of exasperation.

Sure, Adrien and Marinette had always been careful, and Nino only really figured everything out because he'd been lucky here and there, but really, it had been years. The two of them had been working together for how long now? And had been in constant contact at least to some degree since Adrien started public school, and sure, Alya didn't seem to have figured it out yet (at least, that or she hid it from him very well, and the Ladyblog was all a cover), but Nino would have assumed that Paris's duo superheros would be at least a little more competent when it came to...

“Nino?” Adrien asked, snapping him from his impossibly infuriating thought train.

“Okay, okay, I can work with this,” Nino said, running a hand through his hair (he'd been careless recently, and the curls were beginning to brush the tips of his ears). “Okay, so, what about Marinette?”

“I don't know!” Adrien cried, and flopped against the bed. “I'm in love with Ladybug, but I'm also heartbroken because of Ladybug, and Marinette... was just there, and warm, and kind, and sweet, and cute, and she offered, and—”

Nino made a spluttering noise, cutting Adrien off. “Wait, she-she _offered_?”

Adrien's face was red when he sat back up, teeth gnawing at his bottom lip. The part of Nino that was 30 percent gay for him would have found that very attractive, and God, no wonder Marinette had fallen for this mess of a boy. Well, good thing she was Ladybug, because she needed all the damn luck she could get to deal with him.

“Uhh,” Adrien finally said intelligently, and then he groaned and fell back again. Making a flailing gesture in the air as he did so. “Nino, you're not being helpful!”

“What do you want me to do?” Nino cried in response.

“Say something!”

“What makes it better?”

“Uh,” Adrien made a pondering noise. “Ladybug could come through my window right now and declare her undying love for me.”

Nino snorted. “It's pouring rain. That's hardly realistic.” Even as he spoke, an idea was hatching in his mind. Nino, expert matchmaker, was about to work some magic.

Adrien quipped, “Thanks, really supportive, there. Great best friend. Much wow. Very comfort.”

Looking up from his phone, Nino gave Adrien an incredulous look. “That's it, you're not allowed on the internet ever again, Man. Too many memes for you.”

“I'm going to drown my sorrows in anime,” Adrien declared, and moved to his computer.

“Whatever tickles your fancy, Bro,” Nino said absently, typing away to Alya, who he knew was with Marinette that afternoon (she'd turned down his offer of a date in favor of best friend forever bonding time; it likely had to do with Adrien rejecting her).

 

“What's that supposed to mean?” Alya questioned into the air. She tilted her phone towards Marinette to give the dark-haired girl a better view, but she just shrugged and flopped against the couch in response. “Adrien... Oh! Oh, I got it! Adrien is upset... now what's _that_ word?”

Nino had texted Alya at the beginning of the movie, but for the most part, she had been ignoring her phone. The reason she'd picked up and called Marinette over was because Nino had started texting her random jumbles of letters in order to make her phone buzz annoyingly (though honestly, she couldn't tell a whole lot of difference between his normal texting and the gibberish).

From what the pair could decipher, Adrien had been upset earlier, pining over some lost love, and Alya watched Marinette's expression darken sadly as she read over the texts. Apparently now, he was relatively stable—watching anime with Nino, the bestest friend ever by his side. Nino did let out some gleam of information though: Adrien apparently claimed that the only thing that would cheer him up was a visit from Ladybug.

“Why's that, I wonder?” Alya pondered, and texted Nino back: _should I put it on the ladyblog?_ Sure, she has suspicions that Adrien was a fan... but, infatuated with Ladybug? That was a bit much, especially if he had turned down Marinette in favor of an unattainable superhero. Sure, Alya herself was the first to praise Paris's savior, but even she knew the limits of Ladybug's ability to connect with the people she protected.

A buzz distracted her from her thoughts.

**Nino: mb in few days**

**seem ok now**

**if still sad tmr**

**post**

Alya rolled her eyes at the attempt at coherent sentences, but by now she was getting better at reading Nino's texts. She glanced up at Marinette, who seemed to be lost in thought as she stared at the menu screen of the dvd on loop on the tv. “What do you suppose he meant?” she asked thoughtfully.

“Who? Nino? Don't look at me, his typing is shit no matter who reads it.”

“No,” Marinette said. “Adrien. About Ladybug?”

Alya chewed on the inside of her cheek, a habit she'd accidentally picked up from Marinette, who did it when she was nervous. Alya did it when she was thinking, and thinking she was. Marinette posed the question of the hour, in a very vague way: was Adrien in love with Ladybug? And if so, what were they going to do about it? He was already beating himself pining over her if that was true, so telling him it was an impossible love would probably only hurt him more, but on the other hand, it might open his eyes to be able to see just how great Marinette was. “I don't know,” Alya said finally. “We need more info.”

Marinette gave a soft chuckle. “Ever the reporter, Alya,” she said, glancing at her friend with a fond warmth in her gaze. Alya smiled back, glad to see some of Marinette's classic kindness shining through once again, despite her recently aching heart.

“What can I say,” Alya said. “It's in my blood. How about we all go out somewhere tomorrow? Maybe we can dig up some dirt on Adrien.”

“I don't know...” Marinette said, wariness suddenly present in her expression.

Alya pouted at her. “Oh, come on!” Alya said. While she knew Marinette needed time to grieve her crush, the sooner they got information on Adrien, the sooner they might be able to repair their relationship, or at least their friendship. Besides, it wasn't like Marinette to stay so down about something, even when it came to Adrien. She bounced back from everything, always. “It'll be something simple. We'll just go to the park or something, and you don't even have to talk to him. We'll just walk around and look at the flowers or some shit. I'll do all the interrogation.”

Marinette gave another quiet laugh. “I'm not getting out of this one, am I?”

“Nope.”

“It seems I never do.”

“Never,” Alya said smugly, “And that's a promise.”

 

She wasn't sure what she was doing. It was pouring out, the rain pounding down against the balcony as she peered out from the balcony trapdoor. Her gaze flicked nervously underneath the mask before Ladybug heaved herself onto the balcony, barely shielded by the outcropping of the roof from the downpour. Resisting the urge to shiver, she tugged her yo-yo from her hip and swung away.

Landing on a nearby roof, only stumbling a bit from the slick surface before she regained her footing, the heroine started running. This was ridiculous. She knew it was ridiculous. Why was she doing it? It was late in the evening, her parents were back from Brussels and could possibly find her missing, and here she was, running towards the boy who broke her heart.

Tikki hadn't questioned the transformation; she must have known. Marinette had too kind of a soul to leave Adrien as hurt as she felt, and, above anything else, she was still in love with him. If there was anything she could do to make him happy, she jumped at the chance.

Skidding to a stop at the edge of the roof, Ladybug felt the burn of exercise strain her lungs. It wasn't a long run, but the rain made it doubly difficult to maintain balance on the uneven Parisian roofs. With a toss of her yo-yo, she latched onto the framework of the Agreste mansion above Adrien's windows.

The swing was longer than she anticipated, and, cursing, she had to scramble to reel in the length of her string in order to avoid crashing into the walls below. Mind occupied on that task, Ladybug failed to reduce her speed as she arched towards Adrien's window, and she hit the glass with an unceremonious _thud_.

She was lucky: Nino was already gone, and Adrien was laying on his bed but not asleep. He sat upright as soon as he heard the noise against the window, and his eyes went wide. Scrambling off his bed, the hurried over to let her in. “L-Ladybug?!”

She was sure she was hanging awkwardly from her yo-yo, which didn't help her confidence. If she were Marinette she would already be a stuttering mess, and, without a doubt, the nerves were eating at her, but the mask and spots gave her enough bravery to manage a soft, “Uh, H-hi. Adrien, right?”

“What... What are you doing here?” Adrien asked, looking her over with curiosity in his gaze, and perhaps some lingering sadness from earlier that day. His gaze dipped lower, threatening to fall solemnly to his socked feet.

“I-I came to see you. I, um, heard you were feeling down, and if you're upset, how are you supposed to keep all your fans happy?”

“I—uhm—wow. A-are you a fan?”

The color on her cheeks at the understatement of the century probably gave away her answer, but instead, Ladybug asked, “Could... Could I come in?”

“Oh!” Adrien said, suddenly flustered. “Yes, yes, of course! I'm sorry! Come in! Did you run here? I'll get a towel.” He hurried off towards his bathroom, leaving her to ease her way down from her hanging position through the open window.

Dropping quietly inside, Ladybug made sure to stay as still as possible, as to minimize the size of the puddle dripping from her form. In the meantime, she scanned over Adrien's room: it was relatively the same as she last remembered it, when the usual group of the four of them had visited a few months ago. The bathroom door was open, and there was a pile of clothes shoved into the corner of the room. She wondered absently if they were from past modeling seasons.

Adrien emerged from the bathroom a few moments later, towel in hand, and hastily thrust it in her direction. She began patting down her suit, thankful it was water resistant. Her hair would be the bigger issue, she knew, as she tugged the wet locks from their ties, and began pressing the towel against her hair. As she did so, she felt the heat of Adrien's gaze on her.

“Is something wrong?” she asked him, suddenly self-conscious. Did she do something weird? Was he upset about the puddle she'd made? He'd invited her in, but...

Adrien cleared his throat awkwardly. “No, no!” he said quickly. “Just... uhm... you, uh—” he broke off, pink coloring his cheekbones. “Y-you look really pretty with your hair down.”

“Oh,” she said, and felt the blush fighting to rise on her own face. “I-I... Thank you. It's not very practical though. It gets too tangled while I'm fighting.”

“I-figured...” Adrien said, and then quickly added, “I-I mean, you always have in tied up. And not that you don't look pretty with your hair up! You're always pretty! I mean—just—”

Marinette let out a giggle. Adrien must have really been a fan of hers if he started acting like her when she was around him as Marinette. She savored that idea. She hoped she made him happy, even if it was just as a friend. “You're cute,” she said, without thinking.

 

Adrien's heart was beating faster than he ever thought it could. He felt numb from the adrenaline pulsing through his body, but also found himself not opposed to the sensation, especially considering its cause.

First of all, Ladybug came to see him— _him_! Sure, it hadn't been the first time, but before it had been because of an akuma. Now, she was here for him and him alone; no akuma cut their time short nor compromised the meaning behind her visit.

And then when she let out the smallest of giggles, light and free, he nearly melted into a puddle of desire and happiness right there and then. Never, ever, had Adrien dreamed he could coax that sound from her lips, though not for a lack of trying. For all his interaction with her as Chat, he was only her partner, and the flirty sound of her laugh tinkled like wind chimes against his ears. God, she was beautiful. There was never a doubt about how absolutely he had fallen for her.

Should she have known who he was, Adrien doubted she would have acted so pleasantly shy and amiable towards him, so the only conclusion that he could come to was that she was here for simply Adrien. Adrien was enough. That thought warmed him, skin prickling with the euphoria of being wanted. Even as the feeling engulfed him, a simultaneous thought shattered his heart again. Adrien may have been enough, but Chat never was. Chat never would be, and he was just as much Chat Noir as he was Adrien Agreste, inexplicably intertwined within his being.

 _“You're cute_ ,” her voice graced upon him, and her felt the heat of his blush strike his cheeks before he even finished processing the compliment. The intake of her gasp indicated that she hadn't expected to say the words. “Sorry,” she continued hastily. “I didn't mean—”

“It's fine,” Adrien said, already pulling back into the reserved state of mind that had been keeping him relatively sane all day. He was used to putting on a show. “I'm not offended if you don't like me.”

She watched him, seeming to fidget for a moment before she spoke. “What I was going to say... was I didn't mean to be so forward.”

“Oh,” Adrien said intelligently. Had she... meant what she said then? “For the record, I hadn't meant to be so forward earlier.”

“It's okay,” she said, and before they could lapse into awkward silence, Ladybug asked. “Do you really think I'm pretty?”

“Of course!” Adrien jumped to say, almost shocked at the idea she thought he felt otherwise. She was beautiful, stunning, gorgeous... He could go on for hours, but he kept that to himself. “Do you, um, really think I'm cute?” he asked tentatively.

She giggled again, and the sound sent the blood rushing south. Maybe Chat didn't mean anything to her, but part of Adrien didn't care anymore. Not when she was watching him with those curious blue eyes and making sounds so delicious that he wanted to swallow them as she gasped against his lips. “Yes, I think you're cute, Adrien.” And the way she said his name... He resisted the urge to groan.

Clearing his throat to hopefully pull the last traces of his sanity away from lusting after his lady, Adrien changed the subject, though he could still feel the heat against his cheeks. “So how did you know to come?”

She tilted her head thoughtfully, choosing words. “A friend of yours mentioned you were sad. They also mentioned you were a fan.” A friend? Nino. It had to be Nino. Unless... Marinette? Had she lied about keeping her eyes closed when she woke up that morning? But at Ladybug kept speaking, thoughts of Marinette were thrown away. Mostly. Mostly thrown away. His lady was at the forefront, at least. (He would have to confront those conflicting feelings eventually, but for now, his mind was on an endless chant of “Ladybug”). “I'll admit... I'm a bit of a fan of you, and I may or may not have used this as an excuse to meet you.”

Ladybug, a fan of his? He almost squealed in glee, but restrained his inner anime schoolgirl for the time being. “We've met before,” he pointed out.

“On business,” she said, padding over to the couch, where she rested the towel over the back. “I thought, maybe... we could be friends?” she offered softly, looking at him tentatively. Her gaze almost his behind the mask with uncertainty, and Adrien wondered how much of Ladybug's softer side he would see tonight.

“Of course. Friends. Friends are good.” He shut his mouth before he began rambling again. Friends were an important idea in Adrien's life, with the select few close relationships he had. Friendship was a powerful thing, but a friendship with Ladybug? Without the stress and responsibility of the partnership? That was a dream come true.

“So... How's, uh, modeling going?” she asked, leaning against the back of the couch.

“It's... okay,” Adrien said mildly. “Honestly, I don't do it because I like it. I do it because I'm good at it, and my father wants me to. Do you want to sit? God, I'm a terrible host; where are my manners? Do you want anything to drink? If you're cold from the rain, I can make some coffee, or hot chocolate, or do you like tea?”

Ladybug let out another near-silent giggle, and Adrien determined that she was _trying_ to kill him. She moved to the other side of the couch and perched comfortably against the cushions. “I-if you're offering, some hot chocolate sounds good.”

“Right, right, on it,” Adrien said, and crossed the room to start brewing some hot water with his coffee maker. Echoing a version of her question back at her to fill the silence, he asked, “So how's superhero-ing going?”

“Superhero-ing?” she repeated, and laughed, more heartily this time. “It's going okay. Nothing's overwhelming, but it's hard to be proactive when you don't know much about your adversary. We're not sure where to start looking, or if we should.”

“Oh,” Adrien said, though he knew this already. Taking a few moments to think, he formed a question that he figured wouldn't give him away, but also would give him new information about Ladybug. Something he didn't know as Chat. “So what's it like for you? Being defender of Paris?”

“It's not easy,” Ladybug said after a heartbeat of deliberation. “I have a life, too, and balancing it all gets tricky sometimes. But it's amazing too. If I hadn't—if I wasn't Ladybug, I'd never be able to make the difference that I make in lives of others. It's really great to feel like you're doing something good for the world.”

While he didn't disagree, Adrien's own motivations for enjoying his time as Chat were far more selfish. It was simple: he lived a very sheltered life, and the black cat miraculous was liberating. But, as he expected, Ladybug's drive was far more noble than his. It was why she was the true leader of their duo, even if she always claimed they were equals. He nodded in response, then, as he began making the hot chocolate, added over his shoulder, “It sounds like you really enjoy it. I'm glad. Can't really say I feel the same. F-for modeling, I mean.” Shit, he'd have to watch his mouth more closely before he ruined everything.

As he brought her beverage over, transferring it to her hands, he settled on the same couch, not too close as to pressure her, but not so far away that she felt unwanted. She blew across the surface of her drink before taking a careful sip. “Why don't you do something else, then?” she asked curiously.

“Because my dad keeps me on a tight leash,” Adrien said, and realized he sounded far too much like he was dumping his complaints on her. “Sorry, I don't mean to be grumpy, but it's just how it is.”

“It's okay,” Ladybug said, and took another sip from her hot chocolate. She reached forward to place the mug on the coffee table, but something must have happened, because suddenly the mug was teetering on the edge of the table. Both of them lunged forward to catch it at the same time, and their hands collided, together sending the mug sliding across the table.

They had shifted far closer in the lunge than expected, and suddenly Ladybug's breath was upon Adrien's cheek as she withdrew her hand slowly. “Sorry,” she whispered, and his gaze caught hers. Something shifted in her expression, a phase of uncertainty, pain, and then finally determination. “This is really selfish of me to ask,” Ladybug said, still not moving away. The lack of distance was making it hard for Adrien to think rationally. “...Adrien, can I kiss you?”

He didn't remember saying yes. He didn't even remember how to speak, not that he needed to, anyway, when suddenly her lips ghosted over his, and he was 90 percent sure his brain exploded. Thinking wasn't a thing he could feasibly do anymore, and Adrien reacted purely on instinct when they both shifted back on the couch while simultaneously moving closer. Her legs were thrown over his lap, and both of her hands against his cheeks, a caress and possession all at once.

One of his arms went around her back, pulling her to him, while the other steadied them against the back of the couch before going to her hair, running his fingers through the damp locks. She tilted her head to better match their lips together, as they moved languidly with a slow heat of desire.

Part of him feared she only wanted him because of his looks—he was a model after all— and as far as Ladybug was concerned, she only knew him from a few chance encounters, so surely she didn't like him from that alone. The part that was producing this thought, though, was somewhere at the back of the thought process, and since every other aspect of Adrien's mental assembly line was out of commission, there was no way he could even contemplate anything beyond the feel of Ladybug under his hands, and the heat of her breath upon his lips.

He had never dreamed—

That was a lie. He had dreamed. The dreams were nothing in comparison to reality. Their kisses were slow, despite the heat of them, and neither of them made any move to increase the passion of their movements. Both were content in the moment, and while Adrien's body demanded for release of the pent-up desire, he wouldn't have traded this for anything. His night with Marinette—there she was, popping up in his mind again, why?—had been for purely physical reasons, and they'd done much more than just kiss, yet kissing Ladybug as her simply held her was ten times more intimate.

Thunder boomed, far away and then much closer, rattling against the building as the lights flickered and then went out completely. Ladybug broke away as lightning flared across the sky, her eyes gleaming in the blue flash. Adrien was pleased to note that she was breathing hard despite the low simmer of their kiss. “S-should you check on the lights, or...?”

“It w-will be fine,” Adrien panted back. “I—wow—” He bit his lower lip, struggling to find the words to describe the euphoria of kissing his lady. He didn't get the chance to speak before she was upon him again, pressing against his chest so suddenly that he fell back onto the couch, with her on top of him.

With an _mmph_ sound, Adrien found himself underneath Ladybug, her chest pressed against his, and his hand had fallen to the curve of her hip. For a split second, pain shot up his back from the impact, the scratches still raw on his skin, but then she was kissing him again with far more fervor than before.

She settled against him, and her teeth tugged gently at his lower lip. With a probing tongue she asked for entrance, and Adrien's lips parted without even thinking about the action. Unlike with Marinette, this was no battle for dominance. Adrien, though reciprocating to her playful tongue, was content to let Ladybug take the reins, though he eased up onto his elbows to give her better access.

Her arms went around him, and he shuddered under her fingertips. Her hands grazed his shoulders, then ran down his chest and sides. He let out a gasp against her mouth, and her fingers moved along his back, his head falling back in pleasure as his arms threatened to give out. Then, pain and heat sparked through his body as a stray hand ran over the original site of the itch, and Adrien flinched away from her.

“S-sorry,” he said, breathing hard from both her ministrations and the sudden shock of pain. “I got hurt there... Pr—Ladybug?” _Shit_. He'd almost called her Princess. Why? The thought was whisked away as she began to ease away from him.

She had pulled back, sitting up but still on top of him. In the dim of the room and without his night vision, he couldn't make out her expression very well, but her words soon hit him like a physically blow. “Oh my God, Adrien, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't—I can't. Not like this, not with you. I can't do this to you. I'm so stupid and selfish and I can't do this. I'm so so sorry,” she said in a rush of breath as she eased further back so that they weren't in contact anymore.

“What?” Adrien said. What was going on? Did she not like him? Confusion bloomed over his face. “What do you mean? Ladybug?”

Lightning flashed.

The window shattered.

A figure broke through into the dark, crying out.

Adrien needed to get out. He needed to leave. He needed to be Chat.

 

Leaping off the couch and whirling, Ladybug's hands went to her yo-yo before she knew what was happening. While still plagued by the guilt of her actions—she shouldn't have taken advantage of Adrien like that, but he was so _there_ and so _close_ and after seeing him in the Keeper's glass, she couldn't bare the thought of losing him, and if she hand the chance to be with him, she wanted to take it, but she'd messed up and... And all of those thoughts would have to be sorted out later because now there was an akuma in Adrien's room. “Stay back,” she hissed at him.

“I am the Potter!” yelled the akuma. She couldn't see him very well in the dark, but she honestly didn't care. Even in the dim, she could tell the cloth gripped tightly in the Potter's hand was where the akuma was hiding.

“Great. Real creative, Hawkmoth. I'm not in the mood. Let's get this over with,” she deadpanned, and the Potter made an furious noise. Hawkmoth was usually better about choosing his warriors—even Ladybug could tell this one was far too angry to prove a good fighter. Normally Hawkmoth had some semblance of control over the emotions of his akuma, but she wasn't even sure how he managed to convince this one to track her down.

Something flew towards her, and the rolled out of the way, barely dodging the coffee table while she moved. She heard a yelp, and then whirled to look back at Adrien. _Shit!_ She'd forgotten he was behind her, and he hadn't gotten out of the way, and now some sort of fluid was growing over his body (she presumed it was clay, based on the name of the akuma) and glued him to the couch.

She was always irrational when it came to Adrien. The fight with Lila proved it well enough, but this was different. This was her fault. The akuma was here for her, not him, and the emotion and power welled inside her before she could stop it.

She wasn't sure if she meant to do it, but regardless, the words formed on her lips before she could stop them: “Red dawn!” With a lunge, the tips of her fingers fell upon the clay, and her version of Chat's Cataclysm disintegrated the threat on Adrien.

“No!” he cried to her as she faced the akuma. “Ladybug, no!”

She ignored him.

Hellbent on the akuma, she dodged three more shots of clay, slid underneath the villian's legs while wrapping her yo-yo around one. With a jump and a tug, the akuma landed flat on his face, and she dove for the cloth. The akuma's grip was tight enough that instead of pulling the item from his hands, she ripped it in half instead. Ladybug made quick work of the dark bug that emerged.

“Ladybug,” Adrien cried, running over to her. The weight of her used power suddenly fell on her shoulders, and she almost fell over right then as tiredness seeped deep into her bones. “Ladybug, why did you do that?”

“I need to go,” she said. “Can you, uh...” she motioned at the man on the floor of Adrien's room, and readied her yo-yo to escape out the window. Her fingers twitched to do something, anything. She needed to get away. Needed to clear her head. Needed to deal with her irrationality and her heartbreak and love and confusion and everything. “I'm sorry, Adrien.”

“Wait,” he said, reaching for her shoulder, but she dodged his gesture. “Please, wait. I can help—Ladybug, just listen to me. I'm—” he hesitated for only a heartbeat, but it was enough for her to escape. She shook her head, and didn't cast another glance over her shoulder as she swung out into the dark of the storm.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so, I proofread all of these before I publish the actual story, but I haven't proofed this chapter individually, so uh sorry if it's a mess in places  
> also sorry for the lateish update. I was on vacation and expected to have internet access, but it turns out I didn't. Oops.  
> also someone please help these children they're a mess


	4. Act IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrinette brought to you by New York City by The Chainsmokers.

A shudder wracked over Marinette's body, and she let out a whimper as she lay curled in the fetal position on her bed. She had tried to sleep the night before, but between the itch that was driving her insane and the mental instability as a result of what she'd done to Adrien... Well, needless to say, she didn't get much rest. Even the pounding rain could not soothe her heart or mind.

Her itch was different from Chat's. Where his had been a need to be scratched, hers was a need to scratch. Worn and weary the night before, she had tumbled through her balcony window, and Tikki flung herself from the transformation, landing in curled ball on Marinette's pillow. The kwami hadn't moved much since—not even to eat, and Marinette hadn't mustered up the strength to find anything for Tikki anyway.

Marinette had found herself clawing at her skin, as if it crawled with bugs, but only could be relieved by her own fingers. Rubbing against other objects like the loft railing did nothing to help soothe the itch. At least, not against her skin. She found, later, if she scratched against the wall or wooden posts, that the imaginary bugs disappeared, and it was mollified, if only for a moment.

Over the course of the night, she wore her nails down to the skin, and now her fingers were raw and bleeding.

She hugged her arms to herself, digging her fingers into her upper arms despite the pain it caused her. In the light of cold, gray morning, now, she could see the scratch marks along her legs, waist, and forearms from when she had tried to fix the itch on her own body before she'd resorted to the wall. She ached for relief.

But taking a ragged breath, Marinette choked back a sob, and uncurled herself. She would see Chat that night for patrol. She would survive until then. Probably. Hopefully.

It was going to be a long day.

She willed her mind to numbness, to not give in to the instinct to scratch her ragged fingers against her own body or her surroundings. Instead, she gently nudged at Tikki, and the kwami slowly roused to consciousness. “W-what...? ...Marinette?”

“Tikki,” Marinette said, and ran the pad of her finger (which she had yet to damage) over her friend's head. “Do you want some food?”

“Marinette,” Tikki said, raising a weary paw to the girl's finger, brushing gently over the scabs at her nail beds. “What did you do?”

“Something stupid,” Marinette muttered, flinching her finger away at the pain. “I'm going to get you a couple of cookies.” Her words were clipped, cut short as her brain fought for focus on speaking versus the itch, but she and Tikki understood each other enough to know the words that went unsaid: Tikki needed strength to transform that night to see Chat. Marinette just hoped she survived that long.

She ducked down to the main level of the house, rummaging through the cupboards until she found a couple of granola bars for her own breakfast and a few cookies for Tikki. She was just about to sneak back up to her room, when she heard a soft voice behind her: “Marinette, you're up early.”

With a squeak of surprise, Marinette jumped, dropping a granola bar. Her mother came over and picked it up for her. “Uh, yeah,” Marinette muttered, curling her fingers inward so that Sabine couldn't see the damage. “I, uh... couldn't sleep.”

“Oh, dear,” Sabine said, setting the granola bar on the top of the pile in Marinette's hands. “Well, go upstairs and I'll bring up some tea that might help if you want to sleep in a bit more.”

“Uhsure,thanksmom,” Marinette said in a rush, anxious to get away from her mother's observant eyes before her hands were noticed. She darted away with the food before her mother could add anything else.

Once in her room, Marinette left the cookies on her pillow for Tikki to get to, and she settled herself as comfortably as possible on her chaise. Comfortable was a relative term, with her hands urging her to tear at something. There was some relief as she ripped open the granola bars, but not enough to soothe the itch. It still plagued her, and would until she got to Chat.

She didn't think she'd need him that profoundly this soon, but it was her own fault that she was in this position, anyway. Perhaps, she wondered as she chewed thoughtfully, that was why she refused to seek him out now: she wanted to punish herself. She wanted to prove to herself that this was what came of love—brokenness and pain—and she wanted to feel it, to suffer it, so that she would remember to never want it again.

But part of it, also, was that she _knew_ she shouldn't have done this. It wasn't warranted, and she needed to learn the consequence of her own actions. She finished eating and forced herself to move robotically to the shower. Her mental downward spiral was starting, but she figured, this time, it might be better to let it happen, as it would at least be a distraction from the itch. Hawkmoth would never be defeated while she was still this fumbling, fuck-up of a Ladybug. Tikki's comforting words in the past may have boosted her ego out of her dark slumps, but she'd come to realize that she never actually learned her lesson.

She was still irrational, still falling for the same tricks, still so stupidly, stupidly in love with Adrien, despite it all.

It always came back to him.

But now the guilt of what she'd done to Chat also haunted her, and the guilt of _doing_ Chat hovered close behind. It wasn't necessarily that she regretted being with him (she was already blushing at the memory of his lips ghosting over her skin as his movement pounded her deeper into the cushions) but part of her regretted not telling him who she was that night. Because yes, she'd hurt him and she knew it, and that night had been a way of both making it up to him and avoiding the responsibility of their relationship all at the same time, but she also could have fixed it, instantly, in that moment, if only she'd told him. If only she hadn't still been in love with Adrien.

Because really, if it wasn't for Adrien, she would have fallen for Chat Noir's charms long, long ago. He was everything she could ask for in anyone: loyal, cute, funny, had a great ass, caring, devoted, honest. Everything. Looking back, she wasn't entire sure why she _hadn't_ fallen for her partner, except for the fact that her own stubbornness refused to accept that she had.

And now, she couldn't bear to face either of the boys she loved. She'd pushed herself on Adrien out of selfish want, and though he seemed to have been willing, it was far more likely because he wanted the bragging right of kissing Ladybug, as a fan, not a friend. Chat Noir, she had broken, left his heart to wither and die or else move on. Both of those options made her feel sick to her stomach. Not even the torrent of water could wash her wrongdoings away, but at the very least, it could clean the blood from her fingertips.

Padding back into her room in clean clothes, Marinette found her mother had left a cup of tea on her desk. She took it, the now-lukewarm mug feeling like fire to her raw skin, and sipped solemnly as she lay on her chaise.

Half-way through the cup, Marinette felt her eyes start to slip closed, and she set the mug down before she dropped it. Within a few moments, Sabine's magic had worked, and Marinette was asleep, fingers only occasionally twitching against the skin of her arms as she hugged herself.

 

She dreamed of the fight with the Keeper. This time, a figure with blond hair and green eyes was displayed in her glass cage. Adrien—she knew, because when she fought the Keeper, she had figured out the trick was to show you what you lost, and that day she lost Adrien's heart, and she lost her own—but when she looked at him again, he was wearing a black mask.

The transformation overtook the rest of him, suit replacing clothes and hair ruffling in an imaginary breeze, though the shape of his face remained Adrien's, and suddenly she was looking at Chat, trapped in the cage. She banged against the glass to try and save him, but her arms felt like rubber. He looked at her, but seemed to rather be looking _through_ her, and then turned away, and her heart cried because no, no, _no she couldn't lose him too_.

She tried to call forth her Red Dawn, willing herself to fight, to try despite her weakened body and heart, but she realized, then, that she wasn't Ladybug. She was Marinette, trying futilely to fight when she had never been good enough. She still wasn't good enough, even after years of facing the fact that she didn't need to be perfect.

Chat was turned away from her, ignoring her pleading against the glass, but suddenly he shifted, and his hand came through the barrier. He caught her wrist, held her against the opposite side of the cage, while his free hand came up to her throat, claws prickling into her skin, tighter and tighter...

Marinette woke with a start from the nightmare (daymare? the sun was pouring in from her window), and lunged for her ringing phone which had fallen to the floor near the mug while she slept. With a groan, Marinette absently scratched at her leg and instantly regretted the action. “Hello?”

“Girrrrl,” Alya intoned. “Where you at? I'm about to march into your house right now and drag you if you don't come down in five minutes. We're supposed to meet Nino and Adrien in negative ten minutes. And by that I mean ten minutes ago. Get your ass moving.”

Oh. Right. That. Marinette suddenly regretted agreeing to meet Adrien and Nino the day before, and the thought of seeing Adrien caused her gut to twist in trepidation. When Alya had pressured her to go, she hadn't expected to be dealing with the consequences of the Red Dawn and the emotional weight of kissing Adrien. “Uh, Alya...”

“No, don't you even dare think about backing out on me. You promised. You gotta try, at least.”

She felt numb, still shaking from the dream, and didn't even bother to let out the exasperated sigh that would normally accompany Alya's pushy attitude. “Okay,” she said simply, and hung up. She'd get an earful from Alya when she met the other girl, but right now, Marinette just needed a heartbeat of peace.

The itch didn't let her have even a heartbeat.

Rising from the chaise, Marinette resisted the urge to scratch at literally anything within reach, and instead resorted to clenching her hands into fists at her sides. She got ready with forced, choppy movements, and the result was a somewhat put-together appearance at the end of it all.

“Tikki?” Marinette called softly towards the loft. She made her way over, standing at the base of the ladder and resisting the urge to dig her fingers into the cool of the metal. It wouldn't provide enough satisfaction, anyway; she tried the night before to use it as a scratching post. “Tikki, I have to meet Alya, so I need you to at least sleep in my bag.”

There was a chittering sound, and then Marinette climbed up the ladder until she could see over the edge of her bed. The cookies had disappeared, but Tikki had curled back into a ball on the pillow. As Marinette gently scooped up the kwami, Tikki shivered, made a displeased noise, and then sat up on her palm. “Marinette...” Her voice was faint, but ever-cheerful, even as she winced as if the light of consciousness hurt. “Your hands...”

“Oh, you're right,” Marinette muttered as she carefully made her way backwards down the ladder with Tikki in one hand. She settled the kwami in her purse, and then rifled through her drawers until she found a pair of old gloves. They provided the slightest bit of relief from her itch, because, while they sparked pain up her nerves from the constant contact, the friction also was akin to the slightest of scratching. She could survive. She had to. Just until that night. She hoped to God that Chat didn't bail on her because he was still upset.

“Marinette!” Alya cried when she got outside. She had a folded blanket draped over one shoulder, presumably for their picnic. “You're lucky I gave you an extra minute, 'cause I was about to drag you by your... what's with the gloves? It's not that cold.”

“Oh, uh—” Marinette wracked her brain for an excuse. “I, um... I was working on something last night? And I poked myself with the needle a bunch of times, ha, you know me, right? It's not a pretty sight.”

“Oh, come on, it's just a needle. Can't be that bad, can it?” Alya prodded, reaching for Marinette's hands. “The gloves are a little much.”

Marinette jerked her hands away. “Don't! I just... can you let me have this Alya? Please don't get on my case about it.”

Alya looked a bit taken aback, but she retreated. She must have seen the desperation in Marinette's eyes, must have known something was up. Who was she kidding? Alya must have known something was up for years, but being the ever-faithful friend she was, she always respected the boundaries, always let things go when Marinette asked. She never deserved Alya, just like how she never deserved Chat. If she couldn't even find herself worthy of the friendships she had, why did she ever, ever think Adrien Agreste would fall for her? It was ridiculous.

“Okay,” Alya said, linking her elbow around Marinette's instead, supportive and distant at the same time. “Let's go. Nino promised he'd bring a picnic if we all met at the park.”

 

When Nino told Adrien they were meeting Alya and Marinette for lunch, he neglected to inform Adrien of some very important aspects of their lunch date. One, Nino was in charge of acquiring said lunch and bringing to the park they were actually meetings the girls at, and two, that Nino was using Adiren's money in order to supply said lunch.

This negligence (which cost Adrien greatly in terms of money, and only slightly in terms of exasperation) was probably due to the fact Adrien was currently on borderline hysterics as he told Nino about the night before. For the first time in years, Adrien felt a weight lift off his chest as he spilled the anxiety and conflicting feelings upon his best friend.

“Dude,” Nino said, as if about to lay down some “heavy shit,” as he often phrased it. Instead of continuing with some profound advice that could magically fix all of Adrien's problems, he shook his head, then tilted in back in a laugh. “Bro, I have no idea how you messed yourself up so bad.”

“Nino, help me!” Adrien whined, slumping like a petulant child in the backseat of the car. With his father being... well, his father, Adrien had quickly learned that if he had a problem, he was to deal with it on his own. He was only ever a bother to his father, and any of his problems were only insignificant in the grand scheme of things. But now, that he knew someone whom he could trust wholeheartedly, the floodgates had opened, and Adrien longed to be consoled. Though granted, he didn't know how to react to consolation, but all the same, he was finally allowed to ask for help, and there was no way he was squandering that chance.

“So what's this about this power thing?” Nino asked curiously, sneaking a chip out of the bag of food sitting between them.

Adrien sat up, sobering, and rubbed at his shoulder, wincing at the thought of his still-healing back. The scratches were mostly gone now, with only faint red marks, but the memory of pain was still there. He suspected that might partly be Plagg's fault. Even as he spoke, the kwami remained stubbornly silent within his pocket. “It's... new. We tested it with me, using a cure, because I'm always more dispensable, but they always come at a cost. An itch—literally, in my case. It's like a constant nagging in the back of your mind, and it's supposed to be even worse for Ladybug. I think Plagg has an especially hard time dealing with it, but still... she must be suffering, and I don't know what to do.”

“What do you mean?”

“We can fix it for each other. It's like a re-balancing thing because we screw up the balance when we use each others powers. It drove me crazy until we met later that day, and it was only a few hours. I can't imagine what she's gone through overnight.” Adrien rubbed his eyes tiredly. “I-I should be out looking for her. She needs me. I tried to stop her last night, but she just left. I think she was mad? I don't know.”

“You told me you were meeting for patrol later today, right? She'll probably show up then. Ladybug's badass, so she's fine, I'm sure.”

“Of course she's badass,” Adrien defended automatically, causing Nino to put up his hands defensively while he laughed at Adrien's ferocity. “Sorry... I'm just worried. The itch is terrible. It's like forcing yourself to go against your nature, all the while wanting more, and constantly having to tell yourself you can't have more.” Adrien looked at his hands, remembering the overpowering notion of want when the itch began to consume him. It was terrifying in the sense it offered liberation... if only he gave in. But there would always be consequences. The damage between his shoulder blades was only one of them.

Nino let him brood in peace for a moment or two, and then flicked a grape at him. “Okay, enough moping,” he said. “Ladybug will be fine. Now, what about Marinette?”

Adrien felt the blush heat his cheeks before he could stop it. They had spoken, some, about the night he'd spent with her, but Nino could read him far too well and could tell Adrien was feeling way too guilty about the whole situation. “What about Marinette?”

“You tell me,” Nino shot back.

“I...” Adrien felt guilt weigh on his heart. “I almost called Ladybug 'Princess,' yesterday.”

“So?”

“I, uh, I call Marinette that.” Nino shot him a half-incredulous look, shook his head, and then motioned for Adrien to continue. “I don't know. It was right before the akuma got there... and I don't know? They're so similar, especially in the dark, and considering the last time I had s-sex I had to play the part of Chat, maybe I just sort of fell into the role?”

Nino had barked out a laugh as Adrien, ever the more naive of the pair, stumbled over the word _sex_ , but he was completely serious when he suggested, “Maybe you like Marinette?”

“But I'm in love with Ladybug,” came Adrien's automatic response. No, his heart couldn't take the idea of being in love with Marinette, because that meant she had somehow pushed Ladybug out of the way, and he couldn't accept that. Ladybug was his lady, and she always would be, even if he lived his life forever pining after her. He ignored that fact that his resolved had crumbled enough two nights ago that he slept with someone else.

“And?” Nino prompted. “Why can't you be in love with Ladybug and like Marinette?”

“Because-because... that's not fair!”

“Why not?”

“Be-because they deserve all of me, not just the pieces I think are good enough for them. I want to be seen for all of my sides, not just Chat or Adrien, and I can't give my whole if my whole is torn in two different directions.”

Nino settled a thoughtful gaze on him. “Who do you want to have all of you?”

Adrien, beginning to feel like a deer caught in the headlights, made a distressed noise. “I don't know!”

“What happens when you subtract infinity from infinity?” Nino suddenly asked.

Adrien was startled enough by the change in topic that he choked out, “What the fuck?”

Nino repeated the question, slower, and added a stern, “Answer me.”

Adrien's shock had turned to confusion. With a puzzled expression, he replied, “Zero..?”

“Wrong,” Nino said, though not meanly. “There is no definite answer. Infinities have no boundaries, so you have no way of quantifying when one boundary starts or ends. One infinity isn't guaranteed to have the same boundary as another; they aren't the same size. You'll always end up with an indeterminate answer. ”

Adrien shot him an incredulous look. “How the hell are you failing math?”

“Homework is boring,” Nino said, shrugging. “But the concept is interesting.”

“So what's the point?” Adrien grumbled as the car rolled to a stop in front of the park entrance.

“Hearts are infinities. Subtracting by another infinity or adding another or multiplying by two—none of it matters. You still have no boundaries. Just because you love someone completely doesn't mean you've used up all of the space in your heart. Adding another person is just adding another infinity, and you'll still get the same answer.” And after laying down that gem of insight, Nino got out of the car carrying their lunch, leaving Adrien to simmer in his realization.

 

When Adrien eventually followed Nino out into the early afternoon, he was pouting, and he knew it, and he couldn't have cared less. He made a huffing noise as they plopped down cross-legged next to Nino on the blanket that had been laid out on the grass. Whatever soft conservation had been dominating air between the trio died away as Adrien crossed his arms over his chest. Feeling gazes upon him, he snapped, “What?”

The unanimous response was surprise, flickering across the others' expressions. Alya was the first to recover, her gaze hardening and hands flying to her hips. “What's up with you?” she accused.

“Nothing,” Adrien grumbled, and then realized how he was acting. He wasn't mad at them; he was mad at himself, mad at the emotions fighting in his heart and his inability to sort through them. He was upset that he'd gone to Nino for help and somehow expected some magic solution to his troubles, and when that quite unsurprisingly hadn't happened, he was disappointed not in Nino but in himself. “I—Sorry. Something else is bothering me. I shouldn't take it out on you guys.”

“What's wrong?” Marinette asked, sounding timid, and Adrien tried not to cringe at the waver in her voice. Peoples' voices wavered when they were trying not to cry, didn't they? God, was that his fault? Remorse settled more heavily upon his shoulders.

“I—uh... Just stuff with my dad. You guys know how he is.” It sounded like an excuse, and he knew it did, but there was little else he could tell them. Nino, perhaps, he could speak to now, but Marinette and Alya were not part of the equation.

“Oh,” Marinette said, and seemed to deflate.

She hugged herself, hands grasping tightly into her upper arms, and that was when Adrien noticed the gloves. He leaned toward her, somewhat unconsciously, and was filled with an overpowering desire to protect. “Are you cold? I have a jacket in the car, if you want me to get it.”

Marinette jumped slightly as he spoke to her, and refused to meet his gaze. “No, no... I, um, stabbed myself with sewing needles yesterday while I was working and I—it's not pretty...”

It sounded like an excuse, and they both knew it.

“Are you okay?” Adrien asked, far more concern lacing his voice for her well-being than he was comfortable with and far more than her explanation warranted.

Her gaze flickered up, startled into meeting his by the strength of emotion in his tone. “I'm fine,” she said quickly. Adrien was struck into stillness by the blue of her eyes, shining and bright and sorrowful and mysterious and worried all at once, and then suddenly it was gone as she looked away.

Adrien had met the gazes of many women—some admiring, some pitying, some desiring, some disdaining—and always they had looked at him with at best the neutral unacquainted-ness of strangers, and at worst the scarcely veiled wanting for _something_ from him. But Marientte— _Marinette—_ she looked at him liked she owed him the world, and like he was the world, and only two other people had ever looked at him like that: one of them was dead, and one of them broke his heart.

His heart skipped a beat, then ran double-time. Thump. Thump. Thump—stutter—thumpthumpthumpthump. His Lady. But no... and yet, he _wanted_ it to be her. He wanted it to be so, because he wanted to be selfish. He wanted them both. Nino was right, and his heart held tightly to both Ladybug and Marinette, and he was so completely _in love_ with each of them, at the same time.

“Anyway, let's eat. I'm starving.” Alya said, breaking the silence, and Adrien let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Glancing away from Marinette, he found Nino looking at him oddly, one eyebrow raised. It was Adrien's turn to dodge away from meeting his friend's eyes.

 

After some bickering, Alya had convinced Nino to go get them ice cream from the truck across the park, and he had enlisted Adrien in order to carry four cones back. She had yelled some quip as he turned away about not getting the flavors mixed up, and Marinette saw Nino's hands clench into fists as he left, not saying anything. Adrien glanced over his shoulder, and she stared at her lap.

What had happened between them earlier? She'd always been nervous around him, always irrational, always a mess, but they had locked gazes for a split second, and something passed between them that she didn't understand, even as it was an _understanding_ that she shared for a heartbeat.

“He totally was about to throw me the bird,” Alya muttered darkly, crossing her arms as murder glinted in her eyes. Her expression softened. “He didn't, though, and that means he's learning how to treat a woman.”

“Did he finally ask you out?” Marinette asked curiously, trying to push thoughts of Adrien to the back of her mind (she was failing miserably, but trying nonetheless).

“No,” Alya sighed, dramatically flopping back on the blanket. “I don't know if I want him to.”

“What?” cried Marinette. “Of course you do! You totally like him, and he likes you!”

Alya shot her an unamused gaze. “Of the two of us, I am the reporter, and you're about as observant as a mole, so if anyone is going to be pointing out who-likes-who, it's me.” She sighed, then bit her lip. “But you're right. I'm just not sure...”

“Why not?”

“Hey, I'm the reporter, I ask the questions. Why not Chat Noir for you?”

“Alya!” Marinette hissed, scolding. “It's not like that.”

“It was more than like that the other night. I may not have pressed you at the time, but you had to be a least a little into him to do the dirty. I know you, Marinette. You wouldn't use someone for their body.”

Marinette felt her heart sink. She wasn't sure whether it was from the prospect that Alya was right, or because for all Chat knew, she had just used him. “And what if I did?” she retorted gravely.

“I'm not talking about hypothetical situations, Mari. I know he means more to you, and I'll let you keep your secrets as to how and when and where and whatnot, but I want to know why. Because I know you're in love with Adrien, but you're also in love with Chat, at least a little bit, and I want to know why you never pursued him when nothing happened with Adrien over the years.”

“Because I'm not in love with him!” Marinette started out in a yell, but lowered her voice self-consciously as she continued, hissing. “I'm not in love with Chat Noir. He's dumb and a flirt and doesn't see his own worth and cares too much. He's annoying, and makes way too many cat puns, and makes me confused and treats me like I'm far too good for this world when I'm not! I'm _not_! He puts me on a pedestal and I can't live up to that. I'm not perfect, and he doesn't realize it, and I couldn't bear to let myself love him when-when... When I'm not worthy of his love.

“And that's why it was so easy to cling to being in love with Adrien, because nothing was ever expected of me, and I didn't have to be perfect and I didn't have to be a hero, and I could just be me, and it was easy to lie to myself because I knew from the start that he would never be mine.” She felt tears burning at the back of eyes, but Marinette refused to let them fall. She stubbornly turned away from Alya, gazing off into the distance.

“It's not a lie,” Alya said gently. “Don't you still love Adrien, too? Otherwise you wouldn't have been so broken after he said no. You're allowed to love them both, you know—”

Marinette whirled angrily to face Alya, sending the other a glare dark enough to the conversation to instant death. It was at that moment Nino and Adrien returned.

“Uhh,” Nino said, “What's going on?”

 

“Nothing,” Alya said, turning away from Marinette's furious gaze with a weary expression. “Just discussing a certain stray cat Marinette was taking very good care of the other day.”

Marinette made a spluttering noise, and Adrien, without thinking, muttered, “Chat Noir is hardly a stray cat, thank you very much.”

Three sets of eyes locked onto him. _Fuck_.

“Who said anything about Chat Noir?” Alya questioned, narrowing her eyes at him, though from the distraught expression on Marinette's face, Adrien was right in guessing the topic of their previous conversation.

“Uh—I... Um, I saw him? Leaving your balcony two nights ago, on my way home. We drove past your house to see if the bakery was open.”

Alya opened her mouth to speak, but it was Marinette whose words came first. “Oh, yeah? Says the one who had a late-night Ladybug visit last night,” she growled, hands balled into fists. “I'm sure she just stopped by to help you with homework, right?”

The first thought that went through Adrien's head, gone as soon as it came, was: _Shit, Marinette is hot when she's pissed_. What followed his initial reaction was panic. He was internally screaming, and also found his muscles had stopped working correctly. Nino cast him a worried glance, but it was Alya's questioning raised brows that scared him most. He felt like he was about to be dissected.

“What's this now?” Alya said, grinning. “Would you care to elaborate, Mr. Agreste?”

But Marinette wasn't done. Standing, she closed in on him, still spitting fire. “It's not your father, is it? You didn't turn me down because of him. You just used the excuse. The real reason is you're in love with her, aren't you? With Ladybug? Everyone always is! Because I'm not good enough, and I never have been. Well let me tell you—it won't happen, and she's not as amazing as you think.” With that, she turned on her heel and stalked off.

Adrien was left slightly dazed. What had he done? Not only had he hurt Marinette because he hadn't returned her affection, but she also caught him in the lie. Was there anything else of hers he could shatter? Any priceless heirlooms she regarded with great sentimental value that he could break while he was at it? His heart constricted.

“Shit, this wasn't how it was supposed to go,” Nino muttered beside him, and then took off after Marinette.

“Alright, boy, it's time you sit down, pass me my ice cream, and spill everything,” Alya stated, patting the blanket in front of her.

Adrien gulped, watching Nino sprint away, and half-fell, half-slid to the ground. He felt numb, barely registering as Alya took one of the cones from his hands. He didn't turn to her until she tapped a finger on his knee. “Care to explain something, Loverboy?”

“Alya, what do I do?” Adrien cried, voice and expression betraying the maelstrom of emotions contained within him. It was a miracle he hadn't exploded yet.

“That depends,” Alya hummed coolly. “What do you want to do?”

“What?”

“Do you want to go after her?”

“Yes. Should I?”

“Maybe. Do you like her?”

“Yes.”

“Do you love her?”

He hesitated, replaying his conversation with Nino. It was one thing to admit his feelings to himself, but to admit his feelings to someone else made them _real_. It was why he was openly expressive about his love for Ladybug—because he wanted his adoration to be as real to the world as it was to him. Finally, definitively, he said: “Yes.”

“Then I think you should go after her.”

“What do I say? I've broken her in so many ways, Alya—I can't make this better.”

“Can't you? That's a shame. I think Marinette would find some _effort_ on your part would make it better. Also you could be a bit less of a dick.” Alya looked at him pointedly.

Adrien cringed. “Effort? I don't know what to do. I don't know how to make it better. I just fucked everything up because I was selfish and dumb and blind and even if I go, she's right. I'm in love with Ladybug. I can't do that to her. I can't promise to love her when I'm also in love with someone else.”

“You don't have to fix everything,” Alya said. She took his neglected ice cream from him and started on it. “You just have to care. Marinette's had issues with her self-confidence for years. She's always felt insignificant, lesser, even when she's standing up to Chloe or something. I don't know where it stems from or why she has such a hard time dealing with it, but if you just showed her she's valuable to you, even just as a friend, I think she'd appreciate it.”

“I...Okay,” Adrien said, and stared at his lap. A ladybug alighted upon his finger, and he watched his crawl for a moment before blowing it away. He didn't need luck. Broken people didn't need luck—it was never there when they needed it, anyway. They had to rely on themselves, and it was time Adrien stopped dreaming and started facing a reality he had created.

He hurt Marinette. He should have known from the start that it was a mistake to go to her as Chat, but he'd been selfish. That seemed to be the reoccurring issue: he couldn't get past his own wants, and it was high time he cared about Marinette more than he cared about himself. Yes, he was heartbroken Ladybug didn't love him for who he was, but Ladybug never knew him for his entirety—she never knew him as both Adrien and Chat Noir—and how could he expect someone to fall in love with half of him?

Part of him hated the thought of betraying Ladybug like this, but he owed it to Marinette. He'd toyed with her not only as Adrien, but also as Chat, and out of everyone he knew, Ladybug included, Marinette was the only one who knew both sides of him, and still cared for both of those sides. She deserved an apology, and an explanation, and maybe with time she'd find it in her heart to forgive him for breaking her so completely.

“You look like you have a plan,” Alya commented.

Adrien simply nodded.

 

She didn't know what to feel. She loved Adrien, but a bit of her hated him too. She loved Chat, but she would end up hating herself, drowning in her own imperfection, if she let herself love him. What Marinette did know was that she had lost them both.

She found herself clinging to a tree in a small copse near the edge of the park, digging her gloved hands into the bark as pain shot up her arms, but she needed to alleviate the itch so she could focus just long enough to sort through everything.

Falling to her knees as she dragged her fingers down the tree trunk, she finally let the tears fall. She'd ruined everything—ruined her relationship with Chat because she didn't have the courage to meet him behind the mask, much less admit her feelings towards him, and ruined her relationship with Adrien because she'd quite blatantly taken advantage of him, even if he didn't know it, when he obviously didn't like her.

She knew it she wasn't completely to blame. Chat and Adrien had their own faults that escalated the situation, but that didn't stop her from feeling like everything was terrible because of _her_. It was there she finally allowed herself to cry.

The rustling of branches at first made her panic, years of training readying her for an akuma attack. _No_ , she pleaded at the world, _not now, please, I can't do it, not with Tikki hurt and my emotions all over the place and_... But the trees revealed not an enemy, but a friend: Nino. She breathed a sigh of relief, letting her back hit the tree trunk as her tense muscles relaxed.

“Marinette?” Nino inquired, settling down in front of her. He offered her an ice cream cone, just beginning to melt, and she took it slowly, somewhat puzzled. “Ice cream helps fill in the cracks of a broken heart,” he said.

“Why did you come, Nino?” she asked, cradling the treat in gloved hands, occasionally lapping at the dribbles of ice cream threatening to fall. She hadn't decided if she liked the fact he'd followed her. Sure, better him than Adrien, but talking to anyone except Tikki meant hiding things, and she was tired of lies and tired of guilt, and she didn't want to have to push away another friend.

“Just to make sure you're okay,” Nino said, but he was avoiding her gaze. He hesitated, but then added, “And I wanted to apologize.”

Head tilted to the side in confusion, Marinette wiped at her tear-stained cheeks with the back of her hand. “Apologize? Why?”

“Because part of this is my fault... Well, Alya started it, because she knew you liked Adrien years ago, but I found out things that should have been kept secret, and it opened my eyes, but everyone else stayed blind... Especially you and Adrien. So I've kind of been pulling strings in the background and manipulating and pushing you two when I shouldn't have because it's not my place to meddle, and I just think if I had done things better, this wouldn't have happened this way and—”

“Wait,” Marinette interrupted him. “What? I don't understand. This doesn't involve you, Nino. It's just between me and Adrien and, uh... other parties.”

“You mean Chat Noir and Ladybug?”

She nodded.

“Look,” Nino blurted. “Marinette, I need you to not freak out, but I know.”

She gave him a questioning expression, even as her heart pounded. There was only one secret she ever cared about, and the mere thought of that reveal made her go numb. Awkwardly, she coughed out, “Know what?”

“I _know_ ,” he emphasized. “About you. Who you are. I've known for a while, and it wasn't your fault I found out, either. I just happened to be at the wrong place at the right time sort of thing. I haven't told anyone. Not even Chat.”

She looked away, and felt her veins turn to ice. So that was it. All the effort she put into hiding her identity, and she couldn't even do that right. So much for the perfect Ladybug. She was probably the worst there had been. “Do you know him, too?” she asked in a whisper, not sure if she wanted the answer.

Nino rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. “Yeah. Look, don't... Don't worry about it, okay, Mari? You've done amazing things, and you're going to keep doing amazing things. Your secret is safe with me. I haven't even told Alya, though I'm surprised she's never figured it out.”

“I throw her off the trail a lot,” Marinette cut in, somewhat bitter about the situation still. “She respects me as a friend, and probably thinks Ladybug is way to cool for me to be even on her level. She doesn't dig too much because of that.”

Nino nodded, but continued speaking. “This doesn't change anything. You're a hero, but you're still you, and no one can change that. Give me the benefit of the doubt here and trust me when I say I promise everything will work out... even if I didn't help it along much.”

“You're a good friend, Nino.”

“I try.” He grinned, then quickly sobered. “You should go talk to Adrien.”

“I don't want to,” she protested weakly.

“But you should, and you know it. Love isn't worth ruining friendships for, and what did I just say? It'll be fine in the end, but not if you actively try to avoid fixing it.”

With a sigh, she muttered, “How did you get so wise?”

“The internet.”

Marinette snorted.

A moment of silence passed, and Nino took the moment to glance down at his phone. When he looked back up, he let out a snicker. “Mari, your gloves,” he pointed out.

“What? Oh...” The ice cream had melted during their conversation, and since she'd been focused on talking, it had soaked into her gloves and she scowled. “Damn.”

“Can I ask...” Nino said tentatively. “Why are you wearing them? Is it because of the itch?”

“How do you know all of this?” Marinette scowled at him. Nino's knowledge about Ladybug and Chat Noir lore was disconcerting to say the least, especially when they themselves had only discovered this new ability very recently.

“I may or may not have talked with Chat right after you fixed him up.” Nino shrugged.

Marinette gave him an incredulous look, then sighed. “Yeah, it is... I was going to meet Chat for patrol later today, so...”

She threw the ice cream cone to a nearby bush—some squirrels would find a treat later—and tugged at one of the gloves. The fabric brushing over her fingers teased her with the ghost of relief from the itch for only a split second, and her whole body tensed before she forced herself to deal with it again. She hear Nino draw in a sharp intake of breath when she presented her bare hand to him.

“Mine is different from Chat's,” she mumbled. “I need to scratch things, but as you can see, humans aren't really built for that.”

“Holy shit,” Nino breathed. “Doesn't it hurt?”

“Yes, but I don't have much of a choice.”

It was then that they heard a crinkling of leaves, and Nino bolted upright, patting Marinette on the shoulder as she dropped her hand into her lap to conceal it from view. Adrien ducked away from a low branch as he approached. Nino gave him a thumbs-up, clapped him on the back, causing Adrien to wince, and then took off in the direction he had come from.

“Uh,” Adrien said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Um, hi?”

“Hi,” Marinette said tersely, looking around for her glove. _Fuck, Nino stole it, that bastard._

“I, uh... Shit, I'll just say it,” he said, dropping down onto the grass in front of her. She looked away, instead of meeting Adrien's timid gaze. She could feel the heat of his eyes on her, and ignored it. “I haven't been completely honest with you, Marinette, and I owe it to you to tell you the truth.”

“Like you did in the cafe two days ago?” she said bitterly. Rich that he valued honesty now. Though really, she shouldn't be one to talk. Either way, she wasn't making any sudden promises of transparency.

“Please, Mari, just listen. I can't promise that I can make everything perfect, and I can't fix the damage I've done, even with apologies—”

“You didn't even try apologizing,” she interrupted him, and he looked taken aback, as if surprised at the thought. “I don't want to talk to you Adrien, not now, and maybe not ever again because it breaks my heart every time I do, but I know I should. I've been in love with you for years, and I was fine with dreaming, because at least when I was just dreaming, I had hope, but—”

This time, he cut her off, blurting, “I love you, Marinette.”

She froze, gaze locking onto him as he quickly slammed his jaw shut, as if he hadn't meant to say the words he just did. But he had said them, and they hurt when in any other context they would have made her the happiest person on earth. Her expression bloomed from surprise to fury, and her gaze hardened. “Are you kidding me?” she breathed out, words cut between clenched teeth. She leaned forward, pointing a finger into his chest, ignoring the spike of pain up her arm. “I will not let you do this to me, Adrien Agreste.”

“I-I'm s-sorry,” he stammered out, trying to duck away from her angry gaze. “I didn't mean—”

“What? You didn't mean what? Didn't mean what you said?” she growled, and the next moment happened in a heartbeat. Marinette was tired of the pain, and she was always irrational when it came to Adrien... She raised her hand to leave a mark across his pretty face—perhaps he'd have a glimpse of the hurt he'd cause her when her slap stung his cheek—but instead of connecting against skin, his hand reflexively went up to catch her wrist.

Marinette turned to fire.

Jerking violently away, Marinette clutched her hand to her chest, staring at Adrien, who seemed just as shocked. That was... He had started to draw the bad luck out of her. How?

Moments passed, perhaps minutes, as they blinked at each other. “What the fuck?” Marinette finally broke the silence. “I—what— _Chat_?”

“That's what I was trying to tell you!” Adrien cried, suddenly flailing his arms about wildly. “That I've been lying to you because I'm Chat Noir, and I came to you the other night because I trusted you and—wait. Fuck. Wait. If I'm Chat and you're hurt, and that siphon thing just happened, and it _worked_ then th-that means... Holy shit. _Ladybug_?”

Pieces fell together in both their minds, gears clicking into place as understanding eventually dawned on their expressions. Marinette was not okay. This wasn't real, and it wasn't happened, but she knew if she let herself believe that, she would just be lying to herself. She felt numb, and whatever shards of her broken heart remained didn't have the strength to fight the wave of guilt and panic and distress that washed over her.

The sound of her hand cracking across Adrien's cheek echoed against the trees around them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to yuisaki from the BB Voltron discord for helping me edit because Jesus Christ this chapter needed it.


	5. Act V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reveal brought to you by Lucky by Jason Mraz & Colbie Caillat

“I suppose I deserved that.”

Marinette glared darkly at Adrien, who was rubbing his cheek where she'd hit him. “Yeah, I think you do,” she gritted out.

After a moment more of attending to his hurt jaw, he reached for her. “Give me your hands. We need to get you fixed up.”

She hesitated, but ultimately took off the other glove and placed both of her palms against his, outstretched towards her. Something had changed between them, and Adrien had gone from a mess to all-business. It was neither like him nor like Chat Noir to be so stoic. “Don't get greedy,” she attempted to threaten, but her hands began to burn and the phrase came out in a startled gasp. She instinctively tried to pull away, but Adrien's grasp was too strong.

She felt the tug of his conscious on hers, a rickety bridge of thoughts forming between their minds as he probed for the cause of the itch. Marinette pressed her lips together tightly, refusing to look at him even as images and thoughts passed between them beyond their control.

She was fighting it out of her obstinance. She was hurt and wanted to cling to that feeling, mostly because she wanted Adrien to _know_ she was hurt. It was futile and she knew it—even if he hadn't known before, the flood of anger and betrayal and pain over their connection from both sides was enough to explain how they each felt. They weren't supposed to be like this. They were partners, friends, and even lovers in a roundabout way. They needed to forgive.

But grudges were so much easier to cling to.

She dared a glance at Adrien, feeling the itch slowly sift away from her body. His expression was one of concentration, intently focused on her hands where he held them. She wondered if he felt the same as her—this obligation to make up when all she wanted was to crawl into a hole and hide forever. He suddenly winced and dropped her hands, taking in a shuddering breath.

“Please don't,” he whispered, and his eyes were glassy when she met his gaze. Her thoughts, Marinette realized. She must have accidentally shared the last one with him. “I need you, Marinette.”

“You need Ladybug,” she retorted.

“No, I meant what I said.” His voice was pleading, on the edge of breaking. “Please, Mari, listen to me. I went to you because you were warm, caring, sweet, and you felt like what a home should be.”

“Are you sure?” she growled. “Because when I offered that night as a distraction, the only warmth you seemed interested in was the heat between our bodies, and you didn't hesitate to take that chance. You used me and you know it, because you were trying to forget that Ladybug—that I... broke your heart.” The weight of her words landed between them, and she pulled away, hugging herself, until her back hit the tree.

She felt tears well up her eyes, and looked away, trying to will them not to fall. She didn't want to cry in front of him, not like this. Voice hushed, his reply was accompanied by a startled, bitter chuckle. “Yeah...”

Marinette felt like she was keeping score: how many times they had broken each other, how many times they'd left wounds when they should have been the ones to heal them. They were supposed to be better than this—they were Paris's heroes. They should be able to get over this little blip like nothing and go back to the real job. This should have been nothing.

But it wasn't nothing. She felt her chest tighten, and she trembled. She would not cry. She would not cry. She was _not_ going to cry.

Somehow, her body didn't listen. Her heart didn't listen. She cracked, and the sob shook her whole body. She drew her legs in and hid her head behind her knees, trying to choke back sobs that filled the air between her and Adrien. Chat. Adrien. She didn't know anymore. She didn't care to know anymore. She just knew it _hurt_ , and she didn't know why and she didn't know who was to blame and worst of all she didn't know how to fix it. But crying felt fucking good, like some of the pressure was being released with each tear, and so she remained curled into a ball.

“My Lady...” she heard Adrien's whisper, and it was suddenly much closer. He had leaned up against the tree next to her. He dared to brush his fingertips over her knuckles, then grasped more determinedly at her hand, careful of putting pressure on her raw fingers.

A tap opened, trickling thought towards her as he pushed on her mental barriers. His entire life poured into her in bits and pieces—his mother, Gabriel Agreste, the laughter and happiness of an innocent childhood, then the loneliness and calamity after that innocence broke. Then, in the void of his life, there was hope, and suddenly warmth again, because he had freedom, and he had someone to love again. Someone whose smile was as bright as his mother's. Someone he could admire.

Ladybug.

Marinette tried to tug her hand gently away, but he held tighter, and she didn't have the strength to fight further.

She understood in pictures, attached with emotion, rather than the telling of a coherent story. There were moments of them together on the rooftops, panting from a race after patrol, and she felt the adoration of his being as they bantered. The sat together on the Eiffel Tower, looking over the city—their city—and were hit with the full force of the responsibility of who they were, and how huge a part they played in so many lives.

There were battles, both of them left tired and dirty, but triumphant. There was the longing to know who was behind the mask, to meet her blue eyes without their red frame, and longing to _know_ her, in more ways than one _._ There was the battle with Obscura, the sheer emptiness of life at the prospect of losing her, how devoid his life would have been. _A Chat Noir without Ladybug._

Then, suddenly, there was her balcony, inviting and welcoming, and she was overwhelmed with such a sense of comfort and curiosity and concern all at once. There were images of them together, flustered and panting from stolen kisses and more, and even though her face was hidden, Marinette felt her cheeks heat.

Suddenly, she felt the conflict of his heart, his pain over devotion to Ladybug, but unable to forget her, not only the night they had shared, but countless other moments they'd collected over the years: the umbrella when they first met, laughter with Alya and Nino over some joke and the sparkle in her eyes that made the world shine a little brighter, her defiance to Chloe and willingness to stand up for anything, contrasted with unyielding kindness for those oppressed, and then her _scarf_. He knew. He knew she made it, all that time ago.

Then there was the inside of his car, Nino grinning like the Cheshire Cat, and Adrien a mixture of relieved and upset. Adrien drew away then, the lack of contact severing their connection. “Nino told me it was okay to love two people. For a while I didn't know how to react, because I hated that idea. It seemed so dishonest, so unfair, but it was also so freeing. Because I was always forcing myself to choose, as if being in love with you made me less in love with Ladybug, but now suddenly that wasn't _true_. And I knew it wasn't true all along, but I just never let myself believe it.”

He took a shuddered breath, the air hitching in his lungs as it passed. “I-I don't expect you to forgive me, Marinette. I don't deserve to be forgiven, but I want us to be okay enough to keep being partners, and maybe even friends, if you're willing.”

Over the time he'd shared his memories with her, she'd stopped sobbing, and when she lifted her head barely to glance at him, she realized there were tears streaming down his cheeks, silent but present. There was so much wrong between them over so little reason. She was mad, yes, but the situation was stupid, and it was only ever life playing a cruel joke on them that brought them to these results.

Yes, Adrien hurt her. Yes, she hurt Chat. But it was neither of their faults. They'd been tricked into loving each other and thinking their love forever unrequited, and that thought had beaten and bruised them to a pulp. Well, as long as they were putty, they could always be reformed.

Before she even fully decided how she felt, Marinette's hand shot out to cling to Adrien's. He made a surprised noise in the back of his throat, then squeezed her palm gently. She reopened their connection, flooding his mind with apology and forgiveness and raw emotion so strong that it brought fresh tears to both their eyes.

“It's my fault, too.” The words ghosted over her lips. “Chat, please. Will you forgive me?”

“Marinette,” Adrien said sternly, and she was startled into meeting his eyes. His green gaze was glassy, but intent on hers, and his other hand came up to wipe away another tear from her cheek. “Always. You never have to ask for forgiveness from me. Always, Princess.”

“Stop,” she said, not meanly but forcefully enough that Adrien froze completely. “I want you to want me to ask. I'm not perfect, Adrien. You know me, I'm a klutz and I screw up and I'm irrational when it comes to you, and I make mistakes. I need you to know I can't always stay balanced on the pedestal you put me on. Ladybug might be amazing, but I'm Marinette too, and Marinette is... not.”

His gaze softened, a feeling of admiration and affection trickled over their connection. “I think Marinette is amazing, too. She's brave when she needs to be, and she's endearing, kind, witty, playful, creative, fun, hardworking... Marinette is the one who balances being a student, amateur fashion designer, superhero, baking assistant, and awesome friend all at the same time. I think that's pretty amazing.”

“...Did you just call me an amateur?”

“Soon-to-be-professional, then,” he corrected. She let out a sigh and lifted her other hand to rest over his on top of her cheek. “But my point is, you're worthy of being a hero even without the mask. I'm sorry I kept lying to myself once I saw that. Once I realized I fell for you, admitting it to myself felt far too much like betraying Ladybug. How ironic that was.”

“You're the reason I always pushed away Chat Noir,” she mumbled. “How's that for irony?”

“Do you really want to start an irony war? I had sex with you before I ever got close to kissing Ladybug.”

Marinete snorted, recalling a certain akuma battle. “That's not entirely true.”

“What?”

Adrien looked startled, confused, and slightly betrayed, but by then Marinette's brain was finally connecting all the pieces. Eyes going wide, she cried, “Wait a damn second... I slept with you!”

He let out a soft, somewhat-relieved chuckle before purring, “Yes, you did, Princess. Is there a problem with that?”

“Yes!” she wailed, and he recoiled, hurt blooming over his expression. She flailed wildly, one hand clinging tightly to his, which now hovered near her face, while the other waved frantically in the air between them. “No! Yes! Kind of?” She groaned. Here she was, still making a fool of herself in front of him. She buried her face in her hands, but since she was still holding onto him, she ended up burying her face in one of her hands and one of his.

“Did... Did you not like it?” he asked quietly, not seeming to mind her kidnapping use of his hand, but she could feel the uncertainty washing off of him.

“No!” she hastily assured, head popping back up to face him. “I-It was great. You're a-amazing.”

A grin flashed over his countenance but then disappeared. “What, then? What's wrong with sleeping with me?”

“Because I liked you!”

Adrien looked a mix of distressed and lost. “I—Marinette, please—I don't understand... Wouldn't that make it a good thing?”

“No! Yes!” She bit her lip, and their connection now flooded with her uncertainty. “I just... I liked you for so long, and I had all these fantasies about you...” As she spoke, an expression of discomfort phased over Adrien, but she probed at his mind, and he, unprepared, dropped his guard. Instead of being uncomfortable, she found only arousal, and sent him a glare before continuing. “And it wasn't like you didn't live up to them or anything, but it's just embarrassing. It's embarrassing that I acted the way I did, because I wouldn't have ever done that to Adrien.”

“You wouldn't have slept with Adrien? I mean, me? I think.”

“That's... not what I mean.” She sighed, shaking her head, and instead sent him thoughts, relinquishing all sense of privacy as she gave him glimpses of aforementioned fantasies. As much as her cheeks burned, she needed him to see the image of him she'd held so tightly to in her head, needed him to understand that she wouldn't have acted the way the did based on how she viewed him. She wouldn't have offered that night out of respect, because she viewed him as above heartbreak and above taking it out in such a carnal way, and wouldn't have even offered the temptation.

Blinking at her, Adrien slowly nodded. “I think we might have to talk about how you put me on a pedestal?”

“I think there are a lot of things we need to have a talk about, in general,” she replied. “But you're right. I'm sorry. I know you're not perfect, but you always feel that way: the perfect gentleman, the perfect model, perfect student, perfect son—” Adrien interrupted her with a snort.

“We're both flawed,” he said, leaning close until their foreheads touched. She felt his breath fan out across her face. “But regardless of anything, I still love you, Marinette. Ladybug. Whatever name you go by.”

Marinette gave him a small smile in return, albeit somewhat sad. “I love you too, Adrien. And Chat. I love Chat Noir too.”

For a single moment, it was just them.

And then a voice interrupted their breathing: “Fucking finally!”

Adrien let out a hiss of annoyance, and swatted at his chest, presumably to shush the kwami who'd spoken up. Panic then flooded his gaze, threatening to drown Marinette in the wave of emotion he accidentally sent her way, as he collided with nothing but fabric and his own body. Plagg was gone.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Nino announced as he let himself into their hidden spot. “But Plagg fell asleep in one of the bags and I had to get him back before Alya either found him or threw him away. I figured both would be bad scenarios.”

Adrien sent a glare at Plagg, but something clicked in Marinette's mind at the sight of Nino, rather than the kwami. “Wait a second,” she growled, pulling away from Adrien completely to rise and stomp angrily towards their friend. “Nino! Nino, you little shit! You knew this entire time! You knew who we were and you watched us suffer, you sadist bastard!”

“Wait, you knew Ladybug too?” The best way Marinette could describe how Adrien looked was downright shook.

Nino, on the other hand, looked nervous. He paid no heed to Plagg, who dove towards Marinette's bag and drew out Tikki. The two hovered nearby. “U-uh?” the boy stammered.

Marinette was ready to murder, and Adrien was at least considering flat-out decking his best friend. “How long did you let us think we'd be forever alone before you would have decided we were dejected enough to bother giving us this vital piece of information?”

“You could have revealed yourselves to each other at literally any time!” Nino cried, stumbling back a couple steps. “Also would you have believed me? I wasn't supposed to tell—”

Tikki let out a light laugh. “Marinette, relax. The poor boy did what he thought was best.”

“He still has a lot to learn, though,” Plagg grumbled. “Like how I don't need rescuing from paper bags.”

“I guess the cat's out of the bag now?” Marinette heard Adrien say from behind her and she looked over her shoulder to give him the most incredulous look she could muster. “I-I'm sorry! I couldn't help myself! Please don't hit me again!”

The look persisted for a heartbeat and then Marinette fell apart, laughing, partly at the ridiculousness of it all. While she was distracted, Nino fled. Adrien moved to go after him, but Marinette stopped him, catching him by an arm. Electricity sparked through her nerves at the contact. Adrien must have felt it too, because his gaze darkened as he automatically moved to wrap his arms around her.

It was new. It was welcome. Sure, they were broken and needed to work out a lot, but for the time being, it felt like everything was _right_. They could forgive. They would fix this. They would be partners again, but now they would also be so much more. It would mean so much more. This thought was shared between them, brushed over skin as Marinette reached up to Adrien's cheeks and pulled him towards her.

The words, “Shut up, silly Kitty,” ghosted over his lips before she was kissing him. She heard Plagg make a disgusted noise from somewhere above them, but he went ignored. There was no more Adrien, or Chat Noir, or Ladybug, or Marinette—just them, together, and they belonged entirely to each other. She was his, and he was hers. No names, no titles, no responsibilities. Only the pure meaning of partnership.

“So,” Adrien panted as he pulled away breathless. Marinette felt a swell of pride that she made him flustered like that, and as that thought passed to him, he blushed. She thought it was the most endearing thing she'd ever seen. Adrien cleared his throat before continuing. “So, this entire time, we've liked each other. For years. And we didn't do anything because we thought we didn't like each other.”

“Basically,” Marinette responded after a moment's pondering. “That makes it sound confusing though and doesn't really explain everything.”

“Well,” Adrien whispered and suddenly she saw the glint of classic Chat Noir mischief darken his emerald gaze. “Then I think we have a _lot_ of catching up to do, don't we, Princess?” Her heart fluttered as Adrien captured her lips again, kissing her so thoroughly until she thought of nothing but him.

Somewhere between the gasps and laughter and passion and cat puns, Marinette had a simple thought: she was so, so _lucky_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Well. That was a journey.  
> So yeah.  
> Hope you enjoyed. I really loved writing this.<3  
> There will, eventually, be a sequel, probably. As of right now, though, my life has completely and entirely been consumed by Voltron. So. That's happening yeah.  
> Also after writing for the Voltron Big Bang, this fic is just so cheesy and I don't know how to deal lol.


End file.
